


teach me how to love you, darling!

by lucigucci



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Asra (The Arcana), Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Come as Lube, Crying, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Masochism, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Masochism, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Night Stands, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plague, Pre-Canon, Red Plague (The Arcana), Rituals, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, everyone is terrible except for like two people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci
Summary: when a dazzling magician comes to work at the royal palace, dr. julian devorak is immediately intrigued, peeling back mystery upon mystery in order to get close to him-- too close, though, and he'll be in more danger than he realizes. he may be flying too close to the sun, but is it his fault that he loves the way that it burns?a retelling of the events of the precanon centered around the relationship between julian and asra, with a few divergences relating to original characters and interactions.note: explicit chapters will be marked. the majority of the story is rated mature for language, mild sexual content, and gore.
Relationships: Asra (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Asra/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Portia Devorak/Original Character(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	1. like or like like me

The first time Julian saw the magician, he was-- there was no other word for it-- starstruck. Struck by hundreds upon thousands of fiery silver stars all at once. Yes, the magician was a complete stranger, but there was something so familiar and yet so ethereal about the way they moved, down to the way the feather in their hat waved in the fresh summer breeze. They stopped before they crossed the drawbridge to contemplate the palace before them. The shadow of the highest tower just reached their feet, while the rest of them remained radiant in the sun.

Julian had glanced out the window on a whim. It was one of the rare days he saw daylight, called up to the ailing Count’s bedroom to tend to him personally, and he was washing his hands in the basin by the towering set of windows overlooking the city. The curtains, as usual, were drawn, casting a red glow over the bedroom, but a single crack between the fabric pulled Julian’s gaze. He paused. His pale bloody fingers relaxed in the water while the rest of him snapped to attention. 

Even from here, Julian could note the stranger’s discomfort. They shifted on their feet as though debating whether to stay or go. The shawl draped around their shoulders swayed, and they wrung their hands beside their chest. Julian wondered if they were as tense as his own hands, as knotted with stress, as aching with hunger for the warmth of another human being. 

“Jules! The hell’s taking so long?”

He blinked himself out of his reverie. Quickly, he finished washing his hungry hands so he could wrangle them back into a set of black leather gloves. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You were staring off into space. You’d better have been thinking up a cure.” There was an annoyed rustle as the Count rolled over in bed. “Just ‘cause we’re friends doesn’t mean I can’t fire you.”

Julian tore himself away from the window, if only to hurry things along so he might get a better view down the hall. “You, fire me?” he remarked.

Count Lucio sneered at him. Despite his pearly teeth, the gaunt hollows of his face and the dead glint of his plague-tinged eyes made him look like a vindictive gargoyle, fallen from the balustrades and left to glare at passersby from the gutter. “Stick any more leeches on me and I might just think about it,” he rasped. 

“According to my charts, the leeches--”

“Okay but seriously I don’t fucking care,” Lucio interrupted with a huff. “Leeches are gross and I hate them.”

Julian glanced back toward the slit in the curtains. The magician was gone. Did that mean they were in the palace? Or did they leave? He muttered a nondescript, “right, no leeches.”

“What’re you looking at?”

Julian took a few strides back toward the bed, taking his mask from the blankets and adjusting it over his face, hot and heavy, same as his gloves. Damn this summer heat. “Nothing,” he replied. “Will that be all?”

The Count pursed his lips. “Yeah. Fine. That’s all. Go ahead and leave me like everyone else does.”

Julian rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that his face was now hidden. “Until next time, my lord Count Lucio.”

And before Lucio could muster a retort, Julian marched out. Work could wait today. The stranger’s silhouette was burned into his retinas like a bad sunburn. He couldn’t say why this was so important, why the one time his heart’s intuition led his body instead of his head-- all that mattered was that he was here, now, and that being outside was his salvation. The countless nights of research would all be worth it if only he could see them _one more time_.

With long rushed strides, he swooped through the sunlit marble halls of Vesuvia’s finest architectural marvel like an overgrown vampire bat, regretting his choice to wear his black uniform today more and more. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult to find one person in these winding halls if he was quick enough. He poked the beak of his mask into every room he passed, startling at least a few unsuspecting servants. Sweat crept up around his collar more and more with each room. A million questions swelled in his mind, beginning in whispered voices but rising with fevered intensity, all at once. What is their purpose here? What is their name? What if they changed their mind and _aren’t here_?

Julian froze outside of the salon. A servant bearing a tray of cold drinks was stooped over a couch, and perched primly on the edge of the cushion, drink in hand--

They were even more beautiful in person.

Now that their hat was discarded in their lap, their snow-white hair could fall in effortless curls around their face, catching the light and forming the ghost of a halo. Their lips were pursed in worry and the hand that wasn’t holding their glass fidgeted with the tassels under their shawl. When they caught sight of Julian lurking in the doorway, their amethyst eyes widened. “Are you here to meet with the Countess as well?” they asked.

Julian’s throat had gone dry as sandpaper. “W-what?” he croaked.

“I said, are you here to meet with the Countess as well?” They flashed a shy smile. “My apologies. It must be difficult to hear in that thing.”

Julian scrambled to shed his head of the mask, tangling his hair in the process. The air stuck to his sweaty skin almost as much as the leather. “It’s-- I was-- the Count, ah, necessary precautions, you see--” 

“Do you need something to drink?” the servant offered with a concerned frown.

“I wouldn’t-- wouldn’t want to intrude--”

“You aren’t intruding. Come, sit, you look faint.” The stranger patted the couch beside them. Julian doggedly staggered into place, so the servant could press a perspiring glass into his hand. “Drink. You look like you’re on the verge of a heat stroke.”

Julian obeyed. The lemonade didn’t even leave a tang on his numb tongue. Only when the glass was empty did he take a breath to speak. “Thank you,” he wheezed. The servant nodded and left the salon.

“Why are you dressed for a funeral in this heat, anyway?”

“Uniform,” he said. “They chose black to-- to save on laundry bills.”

The stranger cringed away and took a sip of lemonade to hide their distaste. “Then… you must work down there. Under the palace.”

“How do you know about that? The general public-- they told me nobody knows.”

“My old roommate works down there. Do you know her? Calamity Crow?”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Do I know her? Of course, she’s my assistant! I see her almost every day!”

The stranger’s shoulders lowered and an easy smile graced their lips. “Ah, then you’re Dr. Devorak, I presume. She told me a little about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Erm-- well, you know her. Any potential compliments are either masked in sarcasm or insults.” They held out their hand for Julian to shake, which he did. “However, she did tell me that you are incredibly dedicated to your work.”

“I can’t deny that I am. This is the first time I’ve been above ground in-- gods, it must be a week now!”

“And that explains the unseasonable fashion,” they chuckled. 

Julian glanced down at his clothes. Compared to the stranger’s vibrant rainbow shawl and lightweight linen, he realizes how ridiculous he must look. “It, eh, it does, doesn’t it? Maybe black isn’t as utilitarian as I thought.”

“At least it suits you.” They leaned back and took a pensive sip of lemonade. Their eyes didn’t leave Julian’s face, even as he flushed even redder than before. “If you’re employed here, Dr. Devorak, then what are you doing in the salon? I’m here to meet with the Countess about a potential job at the palace.”

“Oh-- oh, I-- about that--”

“Are you Asra Alnazar?” a gentle voice interrupted. Julian leapt to his feet to bow, almost dropping his glass, at the sight of the Countess framed in the doorway, tall and regal as ever. “And-- pardon me, Dr. Devorak, is it?”

Julian fumbled with the glass even more and resigned to putting it down to avoid an accident. “Y-you know my name?” he asked.

“My husband has mentioned you in passing,” she said. “Are you already familiar with Mx. Alnazar?”

 _Alnazar. Asra Alnazar._ Julian shook his head, sweaty curls flying. “N-no, we just-- we bumped into each other! I wasn’t feeling well, so-- so they--”

“My friend apprentices the doctor, and he was telling me about her progress,” Asra offered smoothly. 

“Y-yes. That. Yes.”

The Countess breezes past Julian to offer Asra her hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your reputation precedes you here.”

“Ah-- does it?”

“But of course! The entire palace is in uproar that the Wandering Magician is coming to work here!” She looks back at Julian. “Forgive me, doctor, but I must speak to the magician alone. He requested a private meeting with me today. If you don’t mind, any business you have with me must wait, if only for an hour or two.”

Julian plasters a shaky grin on his face. “N-no trouble at all, milady! No trouble at all! I just came up here to-- to wish him luck for his interview!” 

Asra rose from his seat. He was shorter than Julian expected, the top of his fluffy head barely reaching Julian’s shoulder, and yet Julian still felt so small beside him. “Thank you, Dr. Devorak,” he answered.

“No problem,” Julian mumbled. He had to physically restrain himself from looking back as he exited the salon. The way his limbs were weighted, the way he bobbed and weaved, he might as well be drunk. He couldn’t even focus on his surroundings. Familiarity guided his steps down, away from the sun and warmth, back to the stale cool shadows of the dungeon, back to the rickety elevator, which didn’t even make his stomach churn like usual. His unsightly black uniform melted into the rest of the darkness. The mask returned to his head, making him indistinguishable from the hundred other workers in the catacombs.

Julian didn’t mind the dungeons. Not really. But returning from the vibrant summer so many floors above, it took more adjusting than usual. The medical stage was vacant today, which he was happy for, but doctors were still milling around the common area, some of them huddled around a single coughing patient, some of them comparing notes on a preserved organ in a jar. He made his normal beeline for his office when he was stopped by a much smaller doctor. “I need to talk to you,” she announced.

“Oh-- hello, Crow, how are--”

“I said I need to talk to you,” she repeated, “not make idle chitchat. If I wanted to do that I’d apply to be a fucking nurse.”

Julian sighed. He was not in the mood. Well, he was rarely in the mood for Calamity Crow’s inconsiderate jabs, especially when they were outside the context of their shared projects. “Can it wait, please? I’ve had a bit of a disorienting day.”

She whipped her head around to make sure nobody was listening, then stood on her tiptoes and whispered, “I’ll-- I’ll owe you a favor, okay? I just really need to talk to you. I’ll keep it short, I promise, just-- please?”

Now _that_ was new. Calamity Crow never asked anyone for anything unless the situation was dire, much less ask with a meek _please_ stamped onto the end. Bemused, he gestured for her to follow him into his office, and closed the door behind.


	2. out of this world

Calamity wrestled her mask off the instant the door snapped shut. Her coalblack hair was mussed and tangled and she hadn’t refreshed her eyeshadow, giving her even more of a gloomy sleepless glower. “I don’t usually do this,” she began quickly, grey eyes darting everywhere except for Julian’s face. “It’s unprofessional and immature, but I thought, why the fuck not? We’re all gonna die from the plague anyway. People are always saying live today like it’s your last day alive. So that’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna--”

“Slow down,” Julian interrupted. She took a shuddering breath and collapsed into the cramped desk by the bed while he removed his own mask. “You know, that’s the most words I’ve heard you string together at a time. I must be rubbing off on you, eh?”

“Ugh, I hope not,” she grumbled.

“What’s all this about? I’m afraid I don’t see your point.”

Calamity locked her gaze with his. “I’m in love with your sister.”

There was a pause. A silence. It echoed around the stones, cooled the air. Julian blinked. “I’m… sorry?”

“Your sister. Portia. I decided today that I’m in love with her and I wanted to get it out in the open so in case of my untimely demise so you’ll spare the dramatics at the funeral.”

Julian opened his mouth, closed it again. He had never even seen Portia and Calamity in the same room together, let alone… well, _together_ , so it was even more difficult to picture them in any sort of romantic situation. Yes, Calamity was technically qualified, educated, decisive, in theory a good match, but was she good enough for Portia? Positive Portia? Clever Portia? Fierce, courageous, happy-go-lucky Portia? “Let me… let me get this straight,” he said, massaging the bridge of his oversized nose. “You… decided… today… that-- that you’re in love?”

“With your sister, yes.” 

“And you’re telling me because-- are you already in a relationship with her, Crow?”

“Yes.”

“How-- oh gods-- how long has this been going on?”

“Officially? A week or so. But we’ve been friends ever since I first came to the palace and I bumped into her.”

“Then-- then-- how do you-- why-- you’re _really_ in love with her?”

“Yes, I said that, get with the program,” Calamity snapped.

Julian staggered to his bed and collapsed in a heap of stringbean limbs. “Where do I even begin? Where on earth-- today, of all days, you come and ask me--”

“I’m not here for your blessing,” Calamity added, and patted his back daintily.

“You-- you aren’t?”

“No. I asked Portia, and she said you’d take too long to think about it, so I’m just telling you now that I’m in love with her and nothing is going to change that. Anyway, I’m going back to work. You look like you need some rest.”

Calamity stood up to go before Julian could process what the hell was happening. She was already halfway out the door when he cried, “wait! Waitwaitwaitwait you get the hell back here you little demon!”

She turned on her heel. “What?”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Julian righted himself with some effort, if only to cast his best protective glare at his colleague. “You know how much she means to me, Crow! My gods, we’re each other's only family! I looked after her for years-- no, I raised her, just as much as Mazelinka! I had to be a guardian and a brother to her all at once, and-- and I may not have spoken to her since I took this position at the palace-- not that I don’t trust you, not that you haven’t proven yourself-- because you have, and I’m very proud, but if you think for a moment I’ll allow you to lay a finger on her, I’ll-- I’ll--”

Calamity waited for him to finish. No cohesive words seemed venomous enough. Defeated by his own indecisiveness, Julian deflated back to the bed. “I know,” she replied, a little softer.

“If you know, then you ought to take me more seriously!”

“I do, Dr. Devorak. Why else do you think I told you? Would I deign to explain myself to someone I don’t respect?”

He hadn’t thought of that. He met her eyes, albeit wearily. “Pasha means the world to me,” he murmured.

Calamity sighed and sat back down at the desk. “But… she means the world to me too, okay?”

He scrutinized her gunmetal eyes. They were bloodshot, and the smeared makeup and messy hair suddenly made sense. She must have lost at least a few nights of sleep over this. Sentiment was not a common occurrence in Calamity Crow, even less common when it showed on her face, and her desperate eyes and pursed lips confirmed what he presumed at first he could deny. Julian selected his next words with careful delicacy. “Are you… planning… on proposing to her?” he asked. The dripping dread was undeniable in his voice. 

“No,” Calamity replied. “Marriage is a medieval construct designed for the ownership of women.”

“Erm… right. Good.”

“I talked this over with her a few days ago. Like I said, I think all our lives are in danger. If something happened to me, I’d want you to know the whole truth, and she feels the same way. You’re a good brother and a good boss. You deserve it.”

Julian forgot he was her boss. By all the gods above, if the plague didn’t kill her, her incurable bluntness would be her irreversible end. “We don’t always see eye to eye, but I trust you,” he admitted. “Coming to me, coming clean… that takes bravery, I think, and honesty, and that eases my mind. I know that I can’t change your mind, and you’re right, life is so short, and-- and just-- oh, be careful with her, be so careful! Treat her well, Crow, treat her like a queen. And if I hear you’ve hurt her, I- I promise you I can be downright terrifying when I want to be!”

Calamity patted his knee. “I doubt that. I can pretend to be scared, if it makes you feel better.”

“No… that’s okay…”

She stood up again. “Is that all? Can I go back to work?”

Now that the dust settled, and Julian’s thoughts had unfogged themselves, a single thunderbolt of epiphany shot from the back of his skull to his temple, sending a physical shudder through his limbs. “Asra Alnazar,” he said, as if reciting a spell from deep within his subconscious. 

Calamity frowned. “Uh-- yeah? Do you know him?”

“ _You_ know him. You know Asra Alnazar.”

“Eugh, more than I want to. I shared my aunt’s apartment with him for a while before I moved to the palace and he still lives there. Why?”

Julian held out a shaky finger. “You owe me a favor, Crow, don’t you? Oh, you owe me a favor of gargantuan proportions!”

She shifted in her seat. “Yeah, I... guess I do…”

He took her by the shoulders and gripped her with the ferocity of a frothing madman. “I want you-- I need you-- to tell me everything you know about him. Everything, what he likes, who he likes-- can you do that? Please, I beg of you, can you? It’s terribly important, Crow, and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again, you have my solemn vow!”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Get your hands off me!”

“Oh-- sorry.” Julian released her, withdrawing back. “I was, ahem, excited. Please forgive me.”

Calamity straightened her uniform back out with a snarl. “Yeah, fine. What do you want to know? Be specific.”

Julian took a deep breath, organizing his questions in a single-file line. At last, he settled on, “is he single?”

As her face fell, so too did Julian’s hopes. She stopped cleaning herself up as though he had just drained all her energy with that single question. “Yes,” she said.

“Yes…?”

“But he’s not available, if… that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Why not? What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest. “Dr. Devorak, I-- I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Crow--”

“I’ll tell you anything else. Anything you want. I just-- I don’t w-want to think about--”

He shushed her as her voice cracked with emotion. He had never seen Calamity Crow on the verge of tears before, and it was more frightening than he ever imagined. “You don’t have to,” he amended, “you don’t have to, I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t know! I’ll find out from someone else, yes?”

Calamity sniffled and nodded, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. D-do that. Just leave me out of it.”

“I will. I-- I won’t ask you again, I promise.”

She bolted from the room without another word. While his heart hurt for her, he couldn’t help but harbor a fierce curiosity as well. What did she mean, he was single but unavailable? Was there hope for Julian after all?

He fell back into bed, boots and all, not to sleep (never to sleep) but to think. Surely he wouldn’t be missed for a couple more minutes. 

The Countess said that Asra Alnazar was a magician. Perhaps this fascination was a magic spell of sorts. Julian never believed in magic, never thought it was as practical as scientific study, but now… now, perhaps he needed to start putting his faith in new places. After all, if medicine had let Vesuvia down in their darkest hour, magic might be just what they needed. Somehow, Asra Alnazar held the answers to all of Julian’s questions. Asra Alnazar could heal what was broken with his slender hands and amethyst eyes. Asra Alnazar would save Julian’s life.


	3. bite

Julian Devorak, professional creature of the night, emerged from his cave with a mission on his mind: find the Countess and ask if Asra Alnazar got the job, caste dignity be hanged.

He was perfectly aware that he was, for the first time, falling behind on work. This was especially scary considering that his boss was the most terrifying person he ever met before. But, he couldn’t think about that now. This was more important. He spent his life looking back, so why not try looking forward for once?

He didn’t have an appointment, but he knew from Lucio that she stuck to the same schedule, even on weekends: every morning, she took her breakfast on one of the verandas overlooking the grounds, so he set out at 9 AM sharp to track her down. From what he heard, she was welcoming when it came to impromptu visitors, so in theory he didn’t have much to worry about. 

When he arrived, he realized he might not have realized just how welcoming to guests she was.

Someone was already there.

Impeccably dressed in a loose flowing gown, hair cascading around her elegant shoulders, she looked up from her cup of tea as Julian approached. “Dr. Devorak? This is a surprise,” she exclaimed.

The person sitting across from her made a movement to rise, but she put a hand on his knee on the other side of the veranda. “Please, stay,” she said. “Would you mind if he joined us? It may be important.”

“Oh-- not at all, Nadia.” They settled back into the settee and cast a calculating look up and down Julian’s body. A pair of dazzling golden earrings were the only sign that they might belong in the royal palace, the rest of their outfit being neat but plain, blonde hair tied back from their scruffy jaw. “Dr. Devorak, then? The pleasure is mine.”

Julian inclined his head. “I, er, apologize, I don’t mean to intrude,” he began, but the Countess cut him off.

“Nonsense! The more the merrier! Doctor, this is Martzel Morell, a dear friend of mine. Do sit, I’ll call for a servant to bring you something to eat.”

Julian never did well under peer pressure. He sat next to Martzel, whose interested eyes hadn’t left him. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

The landscaping beyond the veranda was, as always, stunning, not a single leaf out of place. A grid of blooming flowers melted seamlessly into an endless hedge maze. The only people enjoying the beauty of the gardens at the moment were a few gardeners, and Julian was struck with an urge to hop down to the ground and explore it before the summer ran its course. 

“Are you one of the fabled plague doctors?” Martzel inquired, breaking him out of his trance. 

“Ohoho! Fabled, am I?”

“Don’t be so modest,” Nadia added with a smile. “Dr. Devorak is one of the only people who my husband allows to treat his malady. Not only is he talented, but I am told he makes fine company as well.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that, milady. I think you might just be flattering me in an attempt to squeeze the medical secrets from my grasp.”

Nadia laughed. A servant offered a cup of tea to Julian, who shook his head. “I’ve always admired doctors,” Martzel mused. “I would have pursued a career in medicine if only I didn’t have such a weak stomach for gore.”

“Mr. Morell is a travelling historian,” Nadia explained.

“Oh?” Julian gave him a crooked grin. “And what on earth brought you to our quaint little kingdom? Historians don’t often grace us with their presence.”

“I came here on a merchant vessel. The trip was supposed to last a few days when the travel ban took place. No offense to you, dear Nadia, but the damn quarantine is the only thing keeping me in Vesuvia. I never cared for staying in one place for too long, you see.” Martzel winked roguishly in Julian’s direction. “I find myself starved for stimulation.”

Julian blushed and fidgeted. “Yes, I-- I know what you mean. I trained as a doctor on more ships than I can count. It’s maddening out there, without-- without good company.”

Nadia took pity on the flustered doctor by asking, “is there a reason you came here? I’m happy to finally speak with you face-to-face, but I’m afraid it isn’t often that the medical staff have a chance to see the light of day.”

“Y-yes, in fact! I was wondering-- if it’s not too bold to ask, that is--” Julian’s fingers dug into his knees. “I wanted to know if… if Asra Alnazar will be working at the palace. If his interview went well.”

To Julian’s surprise, Martzel was the one who answered first. “Asra Alnazar, working here? Really?”

“Do you know him? Is he not the type of person to work in one place for very long either?” Julian asked.

Martzel set his cup of tea down in his lap, biting his lip, brow furrowed. The Countess answered in his stead. “Of course I hired him,” she said. “His credentials are most impressive. He told me that he intends to hunt for a magical cure to the plague, and I agreed to give him free reign of the royal library for as long as he wishes. The court has lacked a talented magician for far too long.” 

Julian’s throat went dry. “Then-- you mean he’s here? In the palace? Now?”

“He should be arriving sometime this afternoon, I think, but why do you ask?”

“Oh-- oh, I don’t know, I just-- magic sounds like just the thing we need! Yes! I’m excited to see--”

“You don’t want to pursue him,” Martzel piped up. 

All eyes turned to him. “Erm, b-beg your pardon?” Julian said. His pulse sped up to a foxtrot’s pace.

“You don’t want to pursue him, not for a friendship, not for a relationship, not for anything. I say this for your good as well as his.” Martzel sat up a little straighter. His face had hardened into intimidating stoicism. “I take it that you don’t know him very well, Dr. Devorak, and perhaps that is for the best. I don’t know him very well either, but I know enough to tell you that the plague has warped him into something… something inhuman. Unfeeling. He is lost in the wilderness of his own mind and has no intention of finding his way back to reality.”

Neither Julian nor Nadia dared to speak for a few seconds. The summer air had grown cold. Even a cloud passed over the sun, casting a shadow on the veranda. “You speak very harshly, for someone who claims not to know him,” Nadia observed, though her voice was gentler than her words. 

Martzel had the same rough-hewn tight-lipped regret that Calamity Crow wore just yesterday. Both of them knew something about Asra Alnazar, something that they refused to reveal. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” Martzel muttered. “He is a talented magician. If he really does mean to work as a researcher, you are lucky to have him.”

Nadia set her tea down as well. “But?” she pressed.

“But… no. No, that’s it. I’m sorry, Nadia, but I cannot say any more. An accusation would require proof and a firsthand account, and I have neither.”

“Martzel, if this is of a serious nature, as the Countess I fear I must--”

“I know,” he interrupted, “and as your friend I hate keeping secrets from you, but…” Martzel sighed and hung his head. “Please be careful around him, Nadia-- and you too, doctor. I think he is very fragile.”

Julian hesitated, not wanting to cross any lines, then blurted out, “does it have to do with the plague?”

Martzel lifted his head. “Yes,” he replied.

“Then-- my gods, he isn’t sick, is he? I’ve seen more and more patients who managed to keep their symptoms hidden until the very last moment.”

“No, not that I know of…”

A match struck against the inside of Julian’s skull and illuminated the dark portents of his brain with a realization. Single, but unavailable, just like Calamity told him. “Someone died,” he murmured.

Martzel’s eyes widened.

“Someone he loved… his partner, then, died of the plague… is that it?”

Martzel glanced at Nadia’s curious concern, then back at Julian, and caved with a heavy sigh. “I commend your intuition,” he admitted.

Nadia released a tense breath. “How dreadful…”

Julian scooted closer to Martzel-- close enough to touch, far enough away for an invisible person to have a comfortable seat between them. “I want to help him,” he said softly, and this wasn’t wholly a lie. “Would you tell us about him, Mr. Morell? Anything would help. If he’s going to be spending a lot of time here, we shouldn’t keep secrets.”

“I agree,” Nadia chimed in. She even reached for Martzel’s hand and clasped it.

“Nadia--”

Julian placed his gloved hand over his heart. “I swear on the souls of my dear departed parents, may the gods rest their souls, whatever you say now will remain between us.”

Martzel shook his head, resigned. The fingers that Nadia wasn’t holding were twitching and rubbing together as though playing frantic strings. “I believe you, and I’ll tell you what I know, but-- but no more! I refuse to repeat hearsay! I’m a man of my word, mark me, but in this case… in times such as these...” He steeled himself with a shuddering breath. “All I know... is that Aro Slattery ruined him.”


	4. don't wait up

_Martzel glanced back over his shoulder to check that he wasn’t being followed by anyone at the bar, but they were all too focused on their respective drinks or partners. He wasn’t sure where he was headed. All he knew was that he was going somewhere private. The glitter of jewelry, the smell of black pepper, it lingered in the corners of his senses… and all of this from a single harmless conversation. He weaved through the maze of patrons past the bar to a dark hall behind the stage._

_“Hey, Martzel Morell,” someone called from his left. He backpedalled to peek through the crack in the door._

_The greenroom was lit by a towering chipped vanity, where someone sat, half-dressed, admiring his own reflection in the mirror with a vain smile. Each freckle spattered across his face, neck, shoulders, chest, was perfectly illuminated. When Martzel appeared in the doorway, he turned away from the mirror to address him. “Thought you wouldn’t come,” he said slyly._

_“Did you really?”_

_Aro Slattery’s pointed teeth glinted in the lamplight when he grinned. “Nah. I knew.”_

_Martzel closed the door as he entered, chuckling. “I thought you might.”_

_“C’mere, I wanna show you something.”_

_Perplexed, Martzel obeyed, and crossed the room to stand behind Aro at the vanity, which Aro pointed to with one manicured fingernail. He smiled like a pageant queen at his own image. “I bought some new mascara yesterday. Doesn’t it look great? My eyelashes are sooo long.”_

_“Is… that all you wanted to show me?”_

_“Hm? Yeah.” Aro batted his eyelashes up at Martzel. “I thought you’d be interested.”_

_“Er, well--”_

_“Before the show,_ you _asked_ me _if I’d fuck you, so I just_ assumed _you think I’m nice to look at,” Aro pouted._

_Martzel feigned a groan and threw his arms around Aro’s shoulders. “And you told me that you, Aro Slattery, the greatest singer in all the world, would make my last night in Vesuvia special, yet we are trapped in a dingy greenroom with no couches or beds to speak of!”_

_Aro giggled. He pulled Martzel’s hands down to his chest so he could guide his fingers to his nipples. “I want a first round before we go back to your hotel for the main event,” he purred. He tilted his head back into Martzel’s chest, positively vibrating with pent-up pleasure at the attention he was receiving. “Ahh… I don’t want to think about anything but you...”_

_“Did I make that much of an impression?”_

_“Mmm… more like, I wanna forget some stuff…”_

_Well, this wasn’t what Martzel signed up for at all. Aro must have sensed his discomfort because he craned his head back even farther to kiss Martzel’s neck. “Mr. Slattery, if you don’t think this is a good idea,” Martzel mumbled, releasing him, but Aro snatched one of his arms and planted a few appeasing kisses on that too._

_“Don’t worry, it’s not what you think! Me and him split up!”_

_“Yes, but even so…”_

_Aro sighed, probably more dramatic than was necessary, and reached one hand around to stroke the back of Martzel’s neck, where the hairs stood up on their ends just below his ponytail. “Okay, listen. There’s this really hot magician who I’ve been seeing for a few months. I even moved in with him. But lately… I dunno, I feel like I’ve been missing something, and he just doesn’t get it! So about a week ago I left for good. I’ve been booking gigs every day and crashing with people every night until I find something more permanent. That’s it. That’s all you need to worry about.”_

_Martzel pecked his cheek. “All this to say that you want to stay the night with me,” he answered._

_“Yeah, if that’s okay.”_

_Martzel untangled Aro’s arms from his shoulders so he could straighten back up and collect Aro’s clothes from the floor. “It is okay. However, I want you to promise me that you’ll be a little more careful.”_

_“Careful?”_

_“A pretty young thing like yourself isn’t safe spending the nights with strangers in strange places. I understand the need to distance yourself from whatever-his-name--”_

_“Asra Alnazar,” Aro grumbled._

_“-- from Asra Alnazar, but there must be a single safe place you can sleep for the time being. I could even give you some money for a hotel room for the time being if you need it.”_

_Aro stood up from the vanity. He tossed his honeyed waves of hair over his shoulders one more time, admired his bare torso, then took the offered shirt from Martzel’s hand. “That’s really nice of you, but I’ve gotta say no,” he said. “See, I have enough coin to buy a room for like a week at least… it’s just that I wouldn’t have an excuse to go out and meet people, and nobody would be able to leave if they got bored of me. I can’t sleep alone. I get, um. Bad dreams.” His hazel eyes bulged and he clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh, fuck, I-- sorry, I said too much, didn’t I? I’ve got to stop doing that!”_

_Far from being dissuaded, Martzel shushed him and pulled him into a hug. He felt… so small in his arms. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he murmured._

_“But--”_

_“Really. I won’t mind if all you desire is someone to talk to.”_

_Aro smiled, snuggling deeper into Martzel’s embrace. “Ahh… no, I want to fuck you. You’re really hot.”_

_“Ah.” So much for that idea-- not that Martzel was complaining. He resisted the temptation to let his hands wander under the singer’s shirt and instead stepped back so he could hold out his palm, where a set of gaudy golden earrings glittered. “I found these on the ground by your shirt. Are they yours?”_

_“Oh-- yeah! I’d hate to forget these!” Aro plucked them from Martzel’s skin, but paused, smiling, and raised one of them up to Martzel’s ear. “You know what? They suit you better.”_

_Martzel blushed. “You don’t have to--”_

_“I gotta pay you back for being so nice to me, huh? C’mere, I’ll put them on you.”_

_Martzel bent at the middle so Aro could switch out Martzel’s earrings for the gold ones. The smell of black pepper and patchouli filled his nostrils. When Aro was done, he enveloped Martzel in a toothy kiss. “Pretty,” he whispered._

_Martzel straightened back up so he could offer Aro his arm to take. “Thank you. Shall we, then?”_

_Aro took his arm with a giggle. “We shall, Martzel Morell.”_

_And with that, they left the greenroom, together._

\--

“That night was the last time I saw him,” Martzel finished. “I searched all of Vesuvia for him, though. He left quite the impression on me, and once I was quarantined, I didn’t have much to do anyway... I only heard that he found a home in the palace after he was dead.”

“Dead?” Julian yelped.

Nadia, who had remained silent until this point, said, “I knew this man you speak of… not well, mind you, only by face and name. He was hired by my husband and resided almost exclusively in that wing of the palace.” She pursed her lips. “To this day, I leave that wing well enough alone.”

“But-- but hang on, hang on,” Julian interrupted, putting his slice of toast down. (The servants had delivered his first complete breakfast in weeks and he didn’t waste the time to devour every crumb while Martzel reminisced). “Whether he lived in the palace or not doesn’t matter if he’s dead! He wasn’t a victim of the plague. I would have seen him otherwise.”

Martzel laughed grimly. “You said yourself that patients were finding more and more ways to hide their symptoms, Dr. Devorak. I don’t doubt that he used makeup and a stage smile to charm everyone into thinking that he was well. Don’t forget, he was an entertainer by trade. He had plenty of experience fooling anyone and everyone.”

A shiver rippled through Julian’s body. “I suppose it could be done… to an extent,” he admitted.

“Yes, the bloody sclera are undisguisable,” Nadia said. “The Count despises the scarring of his eyes more than anything.”

She never mentioned Lucio by name, Julian noticed. He knew that the Count and Countess weren’t married happily at all, but perhaps he hadn’t realized just how unhappy Nadia in particular was-- or perhaps he simply never had the courage to ask. Nadia Satrinava seemed so very alone even in good-natured company. Taking a chance, Julian reached out and patted her hand. “I’ve only been his private doctor for a month, but I can assure you, milady, that Lucio wishes he could be of more assistance to you.”

Nadia smiled. “Is that so?”

This is half a lie. Lucio definitely wished he wasn’t bedridden, but in wishing that, Julian stretched to the hopeful conclusion he wanted to go about his usual duties as leader of Vesuvia, taking some of the burden off his wife’s shoulders. Something in the depths of her eyes knew this, yet her smile thanked him anyway. Julian nodded, blushing, and finished off his toast to avoid using his damn tongue anymore.

“Did you ever meet Aro formally, Nadia?” Martzel asked.

“Hmm… I don’t believe I did. I recall I heard him once, in my husband’s bedroom, singing… he had quite the voice. I stopped to listen for a few minutes.”

A dreamy glaze crossed Martzel’s features. He reached up to toy with one of his gaudy golden earrings. “I’ll never forget his voice. My gods, I’ve never heard anything like it in all my years…”

Julian imagined Lucio, lounging like the king he was, sprawled across his velvet sheets, enraptured and lost in the notes of a heavenly voice… and then Lucio turned to Asra Alnazar, just as intoxicated, lips parted, lashes fluttering, and his stomach twisted with a mixture of arousal and envy. He cleared his throat. “Then Aro was hired by Lucio to give private performances,” he clarified, hoping nobody noticed his voice cracking.

“I assume so. Lucio would be a fool to pass him up,” Martzel said. “Anyway, I recall tracking Asra Alnazar down a few weeks ago, while I searched for Aro, but I couldn’t learn much. He was not in a talking mood-- not that I blame him, of course. Grief has warped him from the bubbly magician Aro described into something… I can’t explain it. He frightened me.”

“I found him perfectly amiable when I spoke to him yesterday,” Nadia noted.

“Oh, he is just as agreeable as the next person, yes, but his magic… I’m a magician myself, and one of the talents I pride myself on is my ability to visualize magical auras. His was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. There was something so sick, so twisted, I had to excuse myself from his shop after just a few minutes of conversation.”

Julian shook his head, disbelieving. “Mr. Morell, I think we’re talking about different people. You must be thinking of another Asra Alnazar.”

“I will not be forgetting him anytime soon. I am not mistaken.”

None of this sounded right. Julian didn’t know much about magic, but if Asra really did have such a “twisted” aura, then in theory he wouldn’t be drawn to him as much as he was. Martzel had to be wrong, that’s all there was to it.

But as for Aro Slattery… he wouldn’t have any reason to make him up, and even Nadia confirmed that he was a real person who lived and breathed at one point. 

Martzel covered Julian’s bony knee with his hand, as though he knew exactly what Julian was thinking. “I know we only just met,” he said softly, “so all I can do is warn you. I cannot stop you from whatever you’re planning.”

“Ah, that- that’s not it, Mr. Morell--”

“Just keep it in mind, yes? And… if you need someone to, ah, help you relax from work…”

“Martzel,” Nadia groaned, rolling her eyes and laughing, “I can’t take you anywhere, can I? Leave the poor man alone!”

Martzel withdrew but he was grinning too. “You can’t blame me for wanting something to do, my dear! Books can only occupy one so much!”

Julian gulped a nervous lump down. “Thank you, but, er, I’ll have to decline. I’m hoping to… someone else. But thank you.”

An unspoken “Asra Alnazar” passed from Martzel’s eyes to Julian’s, and back again, and Martzel nodded curtly. “If you change your mind,” he muttered.

“Y-yes, I-- I’ll keep it in mind. Keep you in mind. Ahem.” Julian set his plate aside and stood up. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. My work waits. Milady, thank you for your hospitality, and--”

“Nadia, please,” she interrupted.

A grin crept across Julian’s face. “Nadia,” he amended. “If you need a friend, send for Julian Devorak, and I’ll come running.” He turned back to Martzel, a little more anxiously, but judging from Martzel’s warmth, there was no animosity. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Morell.”

“I do hope our paths cross again. Good luck, doctor.”

Neither of them needed to clarify what Julian needed luck with. Julian left the veranda with a hammering heart and a spring in his step. Far from discouraged, he was hopeful and delighted. Aro Slattery was dead. Asra Alnazar needed someone to lean on, a friend who would be there through thick and thin, and that was something Julian was very good at. 

It was a straightforward and entirely foolproof plan: enter the library under some innocent pretense, congratulate him on his new job, offer to give him a tour of the palace, et voila! Friendship achieved!

Although… Julian would be lying if he said he wasn’t wishing for something more. With any luck, armed with this newfound knowledge, he might just have a shot.


	5. tah dah

The library was barely used most of the time. Doctors popped in and out every so often, as the secret passage to the dungeon was located behind one of the shelves, but since they were kept so busy, even their temporary presences were rare. It was a shame for how beautiful the room was. A floor-to-ceiling stained glass window cast rainbow shadows across the city of shelves and a few dusty desks. The smell of untouched pages permeated the air, as tempting as baking bread, coaxing unsuspecting visitors to draw a book at random from the shelf, if only to flip through it and wonder how many hands it had passed through. 

Asra Alnazar stood at one of these shelves. Without his hat, his hair looked like a dome of puffy dandelion seeds in the vibrant light. He ran his finger along a row of spines, and Julian shuddered, imagining his own pronounced spinal cord under Asra’s featherlight touch. 

Julian announced his presence with a knock on the wall beside the grand doors. Asra jumped as he whipped around, clutching his heart when he saw Julian. “It’s you,” Asra gasped.

“Not an unwelcome surprise, I hope?”

“N-no-- no! Excuse me!” Asra caught his breath, leaning against the shelf. “You startled me-- my apologies, I was lost in thought…”

 _He is lost in the wilderness of his own mind with no intention of finding his way back to reality._ Julian shoved Martzel’s words to the side. “Are you looking for something? I might be able to help.”

“Oh, I--”

“For one thing,” Julian said, striding over and examining the books next to Asra’s head, “you’re in the wrong section. This is all hocus-pocus stuff. Viruses and diseases are on the other side of the room.”

“Ah. Well. Silly me.”

“Have you had an official tour of the palace yet, Mx. Alnazar?”

Asra shuffled his feet. “Erm, no, but… I wouldn’t want to take up your time, doctor-- remind me of your name?”

Julian gave him a bow so low, Asra giggled. “Dr. Devorak, at your service! You won’t be taking my time at all! I just came here to-- to check for a book, and I can do that later! Mind you, it’s rather easy to get lost in these halls if you aren’t careful.”

“It might be a good idea,” Asra mused. His eyes roved up and down Julian’s body. Julian was put in mind of Martzel and his curious gaze, but this was different. Asra was… sizing him up. As though he was wondering if Julian could put up a fight.

But that was ridiculous. It was probably a trick of the light, and Martzel’s cryptic warnings ringing in Julian’s ears.

At last, Asra brushed past Julian, toward a shady corner of the library, where a small tower of books was stacked against the wall. “Faust! Wake up, we’re going on a field trip!” he declared.

“Er, who?”

Asra stooped down. To Julian’s amazement, a small albino snake slithered out from behind the book pile to wind around his hand and up his arm. “My familiar,” he explained with a smile.

“A-- a snake! Wow!” Julian winced away as Asra approached. The snake rested like a scaly scarf around the magician’s neck. “It isn’t, ah, poisonous, is it?”

“Oh, no,” Asra laughed. “She’s docile as a housecat, without the fur and claws! Go on, say hello, let her sniff you. The two of you will be fast friends.”

 _Do it for him, Julian. Do it for Asra._ Julian wearily extended his arm. Faust flicked her tongue at one of his leather-clad fingers, then made her snakey way up his wrist, bicep, shoulder.

“Be careful, she can smell fear,” Asra teased.

“Grk,” Julian replied.

Faust wound around his neck. It felt a little like a hug, if hugs were cool and scaly. Julian hissed through his teeth, reached up, and patted one of her coils. “Good snake,” he said. “Good snake. That’s a gooood snake.”

Spurred on by his praise, she tightened her grip, and all of a sudden it was very hard to breathe. Julian staggered against the bookshelf. Shooting pain choked and gagged him. He frantically tried to pry her from his skin, to no avail, and panic was setting in when Asra at last eased her away with a chuckle. “Oh, she likes you!” he exclaimed.

“You think?” Julian rasped, massaging his own throat.

“Very much! Faust, you need to be more careful. I told you that people don’t like it when you squeeze too hard.”

Julian hacked his anxiety up. “‘Sokay,” he wheezed. (It was not). “I’m fine-- oogh, damn she’s strong!”

“Are you ready to go, Dr. Devorak?”

He nodded and tried not to wobble as he led Asra out of the library. Meanwhile, Faust burrowed under Asra’s tunic, presumably to go back to sleep. “Ahem-- hah! Well, that was exciting! Where do you want to start? Inside? Outside?”

“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to get to know the royal gardens.”

Julian always wanted to get to know the gardens too. Now was as good a time as any. “The gardens, it is!”

Asra slipped his fingers between Julian’s, sending a delighted jolt up his arm. He wished he thought to take his gloves off. “You won’t be too warm, will you, doctor? I see the medical staff still don’t have summer uniforms.”

“Ah, I’ll have to put in a request. The dungeons keep us so cool, we forget about the passing of the seasons!” Julian bit his lip, at last resolving to squeeze Asra’s fingers, just enough to maintain his grip. “And… please, uh, call me by my first name. Being one of a hundred doctors makes me feel inhuman sometimes.”

“And what is your name?”

“Ilya. Oh-- uh, Julian! Sorry!”

Asra smirked. “Which is it?”

Julian flushed bright red. “It’s, er, Ilya, my birth name. I changed it to Julian when my sister and I immigrated to Vesuvia; easier to pronounce, and all that.”

“Which do you prefer to be called?”

“Erm… among friends, I suppose… Ilya. Oh, but if it’s too--”

“Ilya,” Asra echoed, slowly, sampling the name, letting it dissolve on his tongue. Julian, too, tried to keep himself from melting. “Like that?”

Julian’s face must be redder than the roses coming into view, illuminated still farther by the summer sun at its highest point in the sky. “Li- like that-- yes. Good. V-very good.”

“Mm. I like your name very much. It feels natural to say.”

Julian had slowed his gait to go easy on Asra’s shorter legs, but he had to catch his breath all the same. Dizziness overwhelmed him, just like when he first met Asra, suffocated by swirling emotion and heady desire. He could just sense Asra’s warmth through his gloves. All he wanted, all he needed, was to chase it, more than the fresh air and sunlight…

“Oh! Ilya, look at these!” Through a haze, he was tugged to the side of the path. “These flowers grow wild all over Nopal, but I’ve never seen them so big before!”

“Ahh…”

“Do you think the gardener would tell me what fertilizer they used? I want to try growing them-- Ilya? Are you alright?”

“Eh?” Julian blinked, and suddenly Asra’s face was a breath away from his, orchid eyes sparkling with concern. “Oh-- ohh…”

Asra held his pallid face in both velvety hands. He smelled of stupefying oud, ancient library tomes, and something… something familiar, salty, bitter, yet the name eluded him… “Ilya, look at me. Ilya.”

Julian exhaled, shivering. “S-sorry, I… I felt a bit… erm, the sun! This silly uniform!”

“Here, let me.” Asra’s hands trailed down to the high black collar of Julian’s shirt and nimbly undid one button, then two, three, four… and his hands, oh, his hands lingered there, pads of his fingers against Julian’s sensitive bloodless skin. Surely he could feel the pounding of Julian’s heart. Surely he took note of Julian’s parted lips. Surely… surely… 

“Asra,” Julian croaked. 

“Yes?”

It was no use. Julian was helpless. He might as well be one of the Nopalian flowers, bending to the wills of the enigmatic and glorious sun. He gaped and gulped without the means to form a single word.

“Ilya, what’s the matter? What do you need?”

“Need-- n-e-eed-- As-ra--”

Asra smiled (and his smile was more than gorgeous, no word in Julian’s native tongue or in Vesuvian or in any language in the world could capture how godlike his smile was) as he trailed one hand up the column of Julian’s throat to trace his jaw. “You’re lucky you’re so very pretty, my dear doctor, or I wouldn’t have agreed to your tour,” Asra mused, “or should I say, your aimless wandering about. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you cooked all this up not to help me find my way around, but to have an excuse for me to put my hands on you.”

Julian swallowed a tight lump in his throat. “I can explain,” he whispered.

“Can you? You seem very tongue-tied at the moment.”

A feeble squeak emitted from deep within from Julian’s chest.

Asra chuckled and crooked a finger under Julian’s chin, beckoning him forward, and Julian breathlessly followed every movement. “My, my… how fun you are…” He ran his hand through Julian’s curls. “I wonder… perhaps you could be of some use to me…”

Julian tried to nod, lips stretching into what he hoped was an eager grin. “Anything! You have- have my word!”

“Your word? Ohh, but words are so intangible, Ilya, so fleeting…” Asra’s thumb trailed across his bottom lip, and he pressed his forehead to Julian’s sweaty one, inhaling him. “Wouldn’t you rather seal it with a kiss?”

“Oh gods,” Julian whimpered.

“Yes or no, Ilya. Nod or shake your head like a good boy.”

Julian nodded so hard, he was almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off his neck. “Please,” he added pathetically.

Asra sneered. “And polite, too? I must be very lucky. I’m sure your work is important, but I promise you, I’ll put you toward a much better cause.”

These words might have been off-putting toward a man who was half as lovedrunk as Julian Devorak. To Julian, however, they were thrilling beyond his wildest dreams. His hands trembled and itched for Asra’s touch. The tempo of his heart was feverish by now. “K-i-iss,” he stammered. “Pr-pro-mise…?”

“Oh, Ilya, you really can’t be so whorish. How is anyone supposed to keep themselves from fucking you into oblivion?”

“Sor-ry…” Fucking him into oblivion? Fucking him into oblivion??? And Asra said it with a completely straight face! Julian could have swooned!

The magician tutted, but his smirk hadn’t left. “Don’t look at me like that. I have plans to make for you before we can think of that. You’ll wait, won’t you?”

“Yes-- yes yes yes! Forever!”

And then Asra kissed him, and nothing else mattered. The sun didn’t matter. Air didn’t matter. Asra could suck the oxygen from his lungs and he would say thank you. He moaned into Asra’s mouth, unable to control his hands as he drew Asra into his chest, clinging to him, this final lifeline sent from heaven. Asra was the one to break the kiss first, gasping for breath. “Sorry!” Julian panted. “I’m sorry, I was excited!”

Asra’s eyes were wide and bulging, like he caught a glimpse of a ghost over Julian’s shoulder. He wiggled free of Julian’s arms. “I-- I-- no, I’m sorry,” he whispered. When Julian reached out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, he shrunk away. “Oh gods-- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-- I don’t want--”

“Asra?”

“Thank you for showing me around, but I-- I need to go! I need to-- um--” Asra drew nonsensical shapes in the air. His downy hair flew every which way. “Store-- restock some-- I’m so sorry, Ilya!”

Without another word, he all but sprinted away, not in the direction of the palace, but toward the city.

There was nothing left to do. Julian trudged at a mechanical pace back to the palace, back to the dungeons, his dingy little office, wracking his brains for what the hell he did wrong.


	6. dazed and confused (NSFW) (dubcon)

He sank weak-kneed onto his threadbare mattress. He was so lightheaded, he was close to floating off the ground. Maybe he should have drank some water before rushing back to the safety of the dungeons, and now he was reaping the consequences. Every fibre of his body buzzed with electricity. He needed a shower. He needed to sleep. He needed another meal that wasn’t just hot coffee and cold mystery meat soup.

Or maybe he just needed Asra Alnazar. To see him _one more time_.

Julian threw his head back, hitting his pillow with a violent thump, closing his eyes. If he focused hard enough, then perhaps, from the filthiest dregs of his memory, he might emerge with a glittering image that would appease his starving soul.

His office was so cold compared to the summer bliss a few floors above, chilling his chest where Asra had bared it just enough mere minutes ago. The loneliness echoed around the stone. And yet, even here, Julian caught the scent of gentle oud, the flash of a scarf, a brush of lips...

“You’re bordering on obsession,” Asra noted from his perch on the desk. He glowed just as resplendently as he did out in the garden, lighting up Julian’s dark office with soft sunny luminescence. “What would people say if they knew how you’ve spent every waking hour pining after someone you barely met? All we did was share a single kiss.”

Shame pinned Julian’s limbs to the bed and caved his lungs in. He shifted, restless, fingers grasping at nothing. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, I s-swear,” he whispered.

“Nobody means for these things to happen.” The vision rose from his seat and trailed his fingertips down Julian’s arm. Julian’s lips parted in hopes that Asra might bend down and kiss him, but of course he didn’t, not yet. The magician was elusive as ever. 

“Please,” he rasped. “I’ll give-- give you anything-- everything--”

Asra toyed with the buttons of Julian’s pants. “How sweet. Now, aren’t you going to do something about your erection, or are you that much of a masochist?”

Julian fumbled with the same buttons. Gods, he was hard, and it had been so long since he’d had a proper wank between hours upon hours of study. He gasped when the cool leather of his glove closed around his length. 

“Good boy,” Asra purred.

He didn’t even bother searching for something in his matchbox of a room that might feasibly double as lube. Friction and precum would have to do-- not like he hadn’t jacked off in less ideal circumstances. 

Asra slipped out of his tunic with angelic grace. His muscles twisted in the dim light, lean and sculpted, and he made certain that Julian saw every inch. “Can you orgasm just from watching me? Are you really that desperate?”

“J-just for you,” Julian whimpered.

“Just for me…?” Asra crawled over Julian’s prone body to consider him, at last settling in the crook of his neck, which he kissed and sang into. “What a tempting offer… to take you, as you like… oh, and it would be a crime to leave you wanting, wouldn’t it, my most faithful darling?”

Julian stretched his neck back and swooned as Asra raked his teeth over his Adam's apple. “As-raa! My god, my god…!”

Asra leered down at him. “Then worship me.”

Julian’s balls gave a fiery throb. He wrestled his gloves off to work his sweaty palms up and down his cock, relief and pleasure washing over him with each pump.

“Tell me, Ilya… what do you want between my legs? I know you’ve thought about it.”

A dreamy smile flitted across Julian’s mouth. “Haah… oh, Asra…”

“Hmm? Come on, I want to know. There are no wrong answers.” Asra drew a tiny circle on Julian’s cheek with a mischievous smirk. “Do you want a cock for you to choke on? A pussy to drown in?”

“Anything… ahh… anything that I can touch, a-and love….”

The vision let out a sensual “oooh” and pressed a tender kiss between Julian’s eyebrows. “Okay, I lied,” Asra crooned. “ _That_ was the right answer.”

Julian pressed his thumb into his wet slit, riddling it back and forth, coaxing precum out to coat his fingers, gritting his teeth. “Why did… why did you leave?” he asked.

“Ilya…”

“P-please, I-- what did I do? Do you ha-hate me?”

Asra shushed him. “You’re getting close, darling. Don’t spoil your orgasm with tears.”

“But-- but I--”

“Oh, aren’t you a sight… hush, precious, hush… come, look at me, let me see you…” Asra cradled Julian’s head in both hands, forcing his gaze upward. “There you are. Imagine that it’s my hands around your cock. Don’t stop until you cum, do you understand?”

Julian didn’t dare to refuse. He was swimming in the twin violet pools of Asra’s irises with the intention of sinking to the depths, never to return to reality, lost to float through an endless lazy river. The tears that had clenched his throat abated. He was so embarrassingly close to orgasm, he was almost glad this Asra was a mere figment of his imagination. An incoherent moan flew from his lips. His arm and fingers ached, but he didn’t let up for a single second.

“Ilya, dearest, while I have you here, may I ask you something?”

“Ngk-- ah-- a-anything!”

Asra combed his fingers through Julian’s hair. His curious smile lit up every single corner of the shadowy office. “What do you think I meant when I told you I had plans for you? And be honest.”

Julian screwed up his eyes. He couldn’t think, not now, not when ecstasy was so close and his fingers were almost cramped! The slickness in his hot fingers made it so easy to imagine he really was being fucked, maybe by Asra’s cunt or his tight ass. “I don’t-- don’t know, I-- plans? I’ll let you do w-whatever _ohh_ whatever you--”

“Hush, no, that isn’t what I meant. Listen to me. You must keep your head, do you understand? You are not a vessel, you are a thinking, feeling man, and-- Ilya, listen to me, listen! By Visconti and Sforza, you’re a doctor, can’t you multitask?”

Julian was very much not listening. The vision slapped his cheek, pulling a pathetic mewl from him, a new wave of rapture cascading around him. His thighs trembled and his spine arched. “Ilya, I know I’ve had my fun, but you’re further gone than I thought! Just because your sister is taken care of does not mean you can give yourself away! Ilya--!”

Hot cum spurted everywhere as Ilya let out one final “Asraaa!”. His hand fell back to the bed, just as limp as his cock. When he opened his eyes, Asra was gone, and his afterglow was inert and dark and solitary as he wilted like a flower taken from his sun.

Vaguely, he felt that he missed something. He also felt that it was too late to do anything about it.


	7. greek tragedy

“Hey, uh, Dr. Devorak?”

“Crow!” Julian’s heart sank right through his stomach. If his face wasn’t flushed before, it was at least the color of a warning beacon now. “My gods, Crow, how the hell do you know to bother me when the most inopportune time strikes? At least _knock_ next time!”

“Were you-- w-were you just--”

“Yes!” he snapped. “Yes! I was! Damn it!”

They met each other's eyes. All of a sudden, Julian was very aware of how much of his body was exposed. Calamity’s dull flushed cheeks and clenched fists looked as uncomfortable as Julian felt. “Valdemar’s looking for you,” she mumbled.

Julian groaned and did his best to shield his spent dick from view with his hands and legs. “I need… I need to clean up. And… get ready.”

“Y-yeah. I’ll tell them.”

“No! No no no don’t! You know how they are, Crow, I’d rather they vivisect me!”

Calamity snarled and raised her hand over her face to avoid making contact. “I’ll make up an excuse, you idiot! Gods damn it, now I have to use the fucking eyewash station, and it’s all your fault!”

“Don’t be such a little drama queen! I’m not happy about this either!”

“Fuck you!”

“Wuh-- fuck _you_!”

She ducked out of the office, slamming the door behind. 

Julian hastily hopped up and dug through his tiny chest of drawers for a clean rag, which he wet in his washbasin and scrubbed any evidence of orgasm from between his legs, until his skin was raw. (Because if he was sloppy, Valdemar would know. They would just _know_ ). He even checked himself in his little handheld mirror. To his confusion, one cheek was bright scarlet-- where the vision of Asra had slapped him. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on this, though. Valdemar waited for no man and Calamity couldn’t stall them for long. Julian left his office the moment he confirmed that he was presentable. Looking on the bright side, if anything could kill a horny mood, it was Valdemar.

“What do you mean, Miss Crow?”

“I-- I mean-- he must’ve bent over the wrong way! We’ve only got one uniform at a time, after all. Got to take care of them.”

“Hmm.”

Julian swooped in beside Calamity to spare her the embarrassment. “You wanted to see me, Valdemar?” he announced.

He would never get used to the way they looked at him. Their eyes were more feline than human, their pointed sneer more crocodilian, their steepled fingers more spidery. Valdemar was a person molded together by someone who only had a basic comprehension of what a person should look like. They were made for the dank shadows of the dungeons. “You have been very busy, Dr. Devorak,” they said.

“Did you finish _sewing your pants_?” Calamity asked loudly.

“Sewing my--? Oh! Yes! I did! They’re good as new!”

Valdemar stepped around him and cast an analytical eye over his office. “I thought I sensed an unwelcome presence in your sleeping box,” they noted, and Julian tensed at once. “Were you alone, Dr. Devorak?”

“Alone as ever, I’m afraid,” Julian replied, but even he wasn’t sure if this was a lie.

“Were you? I see.” Valdemar closed the office door. “You are not required for our conversation, Miss Crow. Take heed of my previous proposition.”

Calamity bit her lip. She wouldn’t look at Julian or Valdemar when she nodded and marched away. Before Julian could ask what previous proposition Valdemar was talking about, they beckoned for him to follow them down the hall. “You have fallen behind as of late,” they observed.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m just, uh, taking some time to check the palace employees!”

Valdemar laced their fingers behind their back with a leer. “Do not concern yourself with them. I would much prefer you stay down here with patients who are more cooperative with our experiments.”

Julian’s stomach churned. They were leading him to the specimen room. All of the doctors knew as an unspoken rule that this single unassuming room should be avoided like-- well, like the plague-- all except for Valdemar. “Whatever you need to tell me, you can tell me back in my office,” he said, but Valdemar just laughed.

“What’s the matter? We cannot afford to be squeamish.”

“I’m n-not squeamish! What makes you say-- me, squeamish, never--!”

Valdemar offered him one of the masks hanging from the wall, and he begrudgingly put it on. The door to the specimen room was marked by a single handwritten sign that said OCCUPIED. (It was never not occupied). “I, unlike you, doctor, will not be taking time away from work. We will have this discussion while I finish my current project. I assume you have no objections.”

Julian had so many objections. He did not voice any of them. Instead, he followed Valdemar inside, steeling himself for the inevitable assault of his senses, which came all at once. The bitter smell of embalming fluids barely masked the stench of death creeping through his mask. Dripping candles were placed across every available surface that wasn’t occupied, casting perverted romantic light around every corner. The grand table in the center of the room exhibited a naked plague-ruined corpse.

He averted his gaze to the dozens of specimen jars lined on the shelves around the room, anything but the worryingly fresh corpse.

“Amanita Villarreal,” Valdemar told him, unprompted. “Lovely, isn’t she? I hear she was planning on leaving Vesuvia before the travel ban to study abroad.”

Julian bit his lip. The way Valdemar spoke about her could be mistaken for them trying to set him up on a date with the nice single girl they met in passing. “Pity,” he mumbled.

“It is, isn’t it? Dear little thing. I’m sure she would be pleased to know that her organs will be used for science.”

“Can we get to the point?” Julian snapped. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your, your project.”

“Ah-- of course, forgive me. Listen to me, waxing poetic! Dear me, dear me, I’m becoming sentimental...” Valdemar sighed and pieced through a tray of metal operating tools. Julian didn’t dare to look at these either. “As I was saying… you have not been your efficient self lately. Your previously perfect record has been tarnished. I have not received any of your daily reports for two days now, and I insist upon intervening. We do not want to be forced to punish you.”

Julian winced as a tender _shhhhk_ cut through the air. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall behind.”

“Or is it perhaps that you are incapable…? You know that if you show signs of the plague--”

“I’m not,” Julian interrupted. “I know. If I had any indication that I was infected, you’re the first person I would tell.”

They were not worried about his well-being, he knew, but he shuddered at the knowledge that they would be more than eager to put him in Amanita Villarreal’s place if given the chance. “Then what seems to be the matter?” they asked.

Julian pretended to be fascinated by a jar of infected eyeballs bobbing an opaque medical serum. “I’ve been… thinking about other things,” he admitted. “I learned recently that my sister is seeing someone, er, and it has me wondering… I mean, I’ve spent my life looking out for her, and if she’s being taken care of someone else… I don’t know. Maybe I can pursue my own desires.”

“What a fascinating interpretation.”

“But I can stay on top of my responsibilities at the same time, don’t worry!”

“I am not worried.” 

The tray rattled again. A bone-breaking _snap_ made Julian wince. “Ngh-- then w-why am I here?”

Another _snap_ , and Valdemar chuckled. It must be Amanita’s ribs. “I want to motivate you to a higher cause. You are one of my best doctors, after all. I would hate to lose you.”

“You won’t, Valdemar. The plague cure is still the most important thing in my life.”

“I should hope so. In that vein, I would highly encourage you to assign someone else to the Count’s check-ups.”

“What?” Julian burst out. In his surprise, he forgot that he was supposed to be avoiding looking into the center of the room, and immediately regretted his decision. Amanita’s chest was very much open and wet. He whirled back around, clenching his fists, closing his eyes. “I-- I mean-- I’m sorry, I d-don’t understand.”

Valdemar cracked another rib. “I didn’t approve his decision to assign you within the palace. The position is far below your expertise. You ought to ask one of the nurses to take your place, and instead focus on our research in the dungeons. I know he has a check-up tomorrow and I wanted to discuss the matter with you before you were pulled away.”

Confused, Julian put the jar of eyes back, switching his attention to a diagram of a nasal cavity. “I don’t mind doing it. He may be difficult sometimes, but he’s an old friend. He trusts me. It makes my job easier.”

“Does he? Perhaps so, perhaps so.”

“Why do you care? That isn’t your department-- erm, live people, I mean.”

“You forget that I am one of his royal advisors, Dr. Devorak. His well-being is just as much my responsibility as it is yours.” A sickening squishy sound permeated the room.

“Then… what’s wrong? You don’t trust me to treat him?”

“Oh no, I believe you are more than adequate to care for him. What I mean is that your services may not be required for much longer. Call it… intuition.”

An icy chill settled across Julian’s shoulders. Lucio’s health hadn’t been improving, but it wasn’t going downhill either-- and he should know, damn it, since he was the one in charge of monitoring him! Valdemar had no right to sound so matter-of-fact, and yet… “He asked me to do it, so I’ll do it,” Julian declared. “I answer to him before I answer to you.”

Valdemar chuckled darkly. “I see. Then we have nothing more to discuss.”

Julian wasted no time in crossing the room to the door, but he paused at the threshold, thinking. “Was a man named Aro Slattery taken here as a patient?” he asked.

The squelching sounds stopped. “Aro Slattery…? Slattery… hmm… do you know, oddly enough, the name sounds familiar, but I don’t recall putting him in our registries. I assume he is dead.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Then he must have been transported directly to the Lazaret. Sometimes, patients are too far gone, and our volunteer slots are full, so they are cremated prematurely to free up space.”

Julian shuddered. “I… yes, I see. Thank you.”

He closed the door, but not before a final ripping sound penetrated his ears.


	8. cry baby

Lucio recoiled from Julian’s touch, glaring at the bag of medical supplies in his other hand. “Wait,” he said. “Wait. You’re trying to trick me.”

“No, I’m--”

“You’ve got leeches in there, don’t you?”

Julian sighed and seized a fistful of Lucio’s nightshirt to keep him from wiggling away-- a feat that would have been impossible had Lucio’s soldier’s body not been ravaged by the plague for so many months. “No leeches today, Lu, I’m just going to take your pulse.”

Lucio squinted up at him, disbelieving. “If you’re lying, I’ll slit your throat,” he growled.

“Consider me terrified.”

Lucio slumped back into bed as Julian’s fingers felt his pulse, which, to nobody’s surprise, had not changed from the last time it was checked. It might be a little high, but he was running a fever, after all. Valdemar had no idea what they were talking about. Lucio was as healthy as a plague victim could be. The sinister conversation they had with Julian just last night was nothing more than a bad dream, and he could feel the apprehension drain from his body the more he realized this.

Julian let out a relieved sigh as he withdrew. “What?” Lucio demanded.

“Nothing. You’re stable.”

“Well, of course! I’m on the mend, aren’t I, doc?”

Julian fumbled with his answer. “Er-- I mean-- uh, yes and no--”

“It’s always yes and no with you,” Lucio grumbled. He shifted around in his pillows to find a comfier position. “Fine. Be like that. You’re just my _doctor_ , it’s not like you’re supposed to tell me that shit.”

“How have you been feeling? Better? Worse?”

Lucio rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter what I tell you, I’ll be stuck here either way.”

“Lu--”

“How about you tell me how you’ve been feeling, eh, Jules? Give me a little something to talk about? Don’t be shy.”

Julian put his medical bag down and sat beside Lucio on the bed. The supplies were mostly for show anyway during routine check-ups. At most, he’d do a little bloodletting, only on days when Lucio was feeling cooperative. “Okay,” he answered, smiling. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I met someone.”

Lucio’s mouth fell open. “ _No_! You? Julian Devorak? Mr. Terminally Depressed and Alone?”

“Prahaha, that’s the one!” Julian threw a wistful glance in the direction of the library. “The Countess just hired him as the new court magician! His name is Asra Alnazar, and--”

“I know him,” Lucio interrupted.

By the gods, it seemed like everyone in the palace knew the glory of Asra Alnazar except for Julian. He couldn’t possibly be that infamous, could he? “You-- you do?”

“Oh, sure! He was just a kid when I first found him. We’ve made a couple deals through the years-- didn’t know he was working here, though. I’ll have to arrange a chat with him.” Lucio licked his lips. “I can see why you’re interested, Jules. He’s not bad to look at, not bad at all. I’d go after him myself if the fucking doctors would let me-- no offense.”

Julian tried to picture Lucio and Asra in the same room, and failed. They were such polar opposites, he would bet money that any time they spent together would be nothing short of explosive. “He’s really something,” he murmured.

“He sure is.” Lucio scrutinized Julian’s face. “So you’re fucking around with him, huh?”

“We haven’t-- uh, yet, but I hope-- I really hope we do. I hope we can make it work. You know, my coworker told me that she’s in a serious relationship with my sister, and it makes me feel… untethered. Does that make sense? I’m not bound to anyone anymore, I’m free to pursue who I like. I’m going to try to see him again today and maybe… maybe something will come of it.”

Lucio twiddled his fingers against the sheets. His nails were scummy and dirty, palms sweaty and shaky. When he didn’t speak again, Julian piped up, “actually that reminds me-- I wanted to ask you about something. I’m trying to learn what happened to Asra’s last partner, Aro Slattery, and Nadia said that he worked for you. What was he like?”

At first, Julian thought he might have gone too far. Lucio went stalk-still in a manner of seconds. His eyes grew wide, then narrowed, and his lips twisted into a snarl. “Aro Slattery is a traitor,” he said, “and he deserved what he got.”

Julian’s heart sped up. He leaned forward, just enough to show his interest. “What do you mean?”

“You want me to tell you? Oh, I’ll tell you, alright. I’ll tell you _everything_.”

\--

_“Hold still.”_

_“I’m still! I’m so still!” Lucio snapped._

_“Hold_ stiller _,” Aro retorted, “or I’m gonna fuck up and paint your cuticles.”_

_Lucio threw his head back with a petulant sigh, but he really did try to keep his hand from shaking in Aro’s careful fingers. “You know, I think you’re the one with the gross plague twitch,” he teased._

_Aro didn’t reply to that. He ran a delicate brush of creamy polish over Lucio’s index fingernail in silence. Under the mask of his makeup, Lucio noticed, Aro’s eyes were bloodshot and heavy, lips cracked even under his gloss. And he wasn’t smiling. That was strange._

_“What’s wrong?” Lucio asked._

_“What?”_

_“I said, what’s wrong?” Lucio gestured to his face with a frown. “You look like you haven’t slept in days. And you didn’t come to see me yesterday or the day before that, either. I shouldn’t have to drag you out of your room for some godsdamned company. I’m your fucking boss.”_

_Aro bared his teeth and lashed back with a fiery retort, and things returned to normal._

_Or-- no, he didn’t. He just... sat there. Quiet and dedicated to his simple little task._

_Lucio furrowed his brow. “Are you listening to me, babe?”_

_“Yeah, yeah,” Aro replied, but he wouldn’t meet Lucio’s eyes. “Sorry. I was, uh, tired. I didn’t feel like singing.”_

_“You haven’t felt like singing in weeks. If I weren’t so nice, I would’ve fired you by now.”_

_Aro plastered on a smile. “Well, at least your nails look fabulous thanks to me! If you got rid of me, who knows how nasty your hands might get?”_

_Lucio smirked back. “Hey, they do look good. Credit where credit’s due and all that.”_

_Aro still wasn’t looking at him. Maybe it was because of Lucio’s bedraggled appearance-- after all, the majority of his visitors refused to look too close at him. He was Case Study No. 1, a shining grotesque example of the effects of the Red Plague, eternally teetering like a human see-saw on the cliff edge of death. Despite this, Aro never had a problem looking him in the eye before. Never. Not in almost two months of him living right down the hall. Then what…?_

_“Serious question,” Lucio said._

_“Ooh. Okay, shoot.”_

_“Are you happy here?”_

_The brush paused in its route down Lucio’s pinky. “I, um… yeah! Yeah of course I am!”_

_“Really?”_

_Aro smiled again, genuine this time, and he stooped down to brush his lips against Lucio’s knuckles. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lucy, I mean it. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”_

_Lucio waited for a ‘but’ that didn’t come, so he pressed on. “You aren’t lonely, are you? I know I for one get lonely stuck in bed all the time, even when people come by, but nobody visits your room-- uh, no offense.”_

_“None taken. I don’t know, I go into town sometimes if I’m bored, so it isn’t too bad.”_

_“What about... sick? Are you sick?”_

_“Shut up!” Aro barked. “What’s with the interrogation? What I do is my business!”_

_“Your business_ is _my business! You’re in_ my _palace, eating_ my _food, spending_ my _money, and this is how you repay me? Closeting yourself in your room so you don’t have to see my fucking face?”_

_Aro finished Lucio’s right hand and slammed the bottle of polish on the bedside table when he was done, sitting back in his chair with a loud huff while Lucio withdrew his hand and waved it in the air to dry it. He sat up from his pillows with more effort than usual. “Okay, fine, I didn’t mean that,” he mumbled._

_“‘Sokay. I know.”_

_Lucio reached over with his golden alchemical hand to beckon Aro closer. Albeit reluctantly, Aro switched his seat from the armchair to the side of the mattress, where Lucio could snake his arm down his waist to cup his ass. “I worry about you sometimes, pretty boy,” he murmured._

_“You don’t have to!” Aro poked the tip of Lucio’s nose with his finger. “You’re the one we need to worry about! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Val’s right. You need to focus on getting better.”_

_“That isn’t just something you can do, though. I’d rather distract myself. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? I deserve it!”_

_“Hmm... yeah, good point.” Aro inched a little closer, reaching up to brush stray strands of hair from Lucio’s pale forehead. His face broke into a grin. “Wow, you’re hot. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.”_

_Lucio might be blushing, but ever since he was infected by the plague, he couldn’t quite tell. He settled for a thank-you kiss to show his appreciation. Aro’s gloss was sweeter than normal that day, practically made to be smeared and sucked away. Delicate breathy moans bubbled up in Aro’s throat only to be drunk down by the gluttonous Count. Aro’s fingers tightened in his hair, tugging at first, then gripping like iron vices, and all of a sudden there didn’t seem to be much air left. Confused, Lucio pulled away._

_And then the coughing came._

_Not from Lucio… from Aro._

_He was doubled-over and convulsing, hair falling into his face, refusing to let go of Lucio even as he hacked and choked, tiny splatters of blood flying to stain the blankets and bedclothes below, just like the freckles across Aro’s body. Lucio sat frozen in fear. He should do something, and yet his mind was consumed with nothing but swollen scarlet and shriveled lungs. It wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t stop, and the blood kept coming._

_When the coughing abated, Aro continued to shiver. His hazel eyes-- not bloodshot,_ infected _\-- were round and brimming with tears. “S-something in my thro-throat,” he croaked._

_“You have it,” Lucio whispered._

_“No-- no!”_

_“You have it! You-- you lied to me! How long have you--”_

_“No!” Aro shrieked. He clawed at Lucio’s collar and nuzzled his bloody lips into the crook of his neck. “Don’t make me g-go! They’ll take me aw-away, Lucy, and-- and I’ll never come back, and everyone’ll forget me f-forever--!”_

_Lucio swallowed his tears. With all his might, he shoved Aro off the bed, wincing as he collapsed to the floor in a new coughing fit. “You need a doctor,” he growled._

_Aro covered his mouth with his hands and managed a desperate bloodcurdling scream that shook the entire palace wing before his lungs got the better of him again._

_“You-- y-you could have infected me even more by coming here! You’ve been killing me, you scheming little bitch!”_

_“D-don’t-- don’t please p-pl-ease I didn’t mean--” Aro seized the bedsheets trailing on the floor and tried to haul himself back up, failed. “I heard what they do-- they have these r-red rooms, Lucy, and nobody g-ets out, never! I’ll die! They’ll kill me! They’ll kill me!”_

_“You’d deserve it,” the Count hissed._

_“_ Please _!”_

_The door burst open with a violent bang, heralding the entrance of at least four sword-brandishing soldiers. Lucio pointed to the weeping man on the floor with his best warrior’s glare. “Get him out of here and down to the dungeons,” he ordered._

_Weak flickers of fire jumped to life in Aro’s hands as he was hoisted up from the floor, although they were nowhere near enough to even catch the attention of any of his captors. A glistening mixture of saliva and snot and blood dribbled from his lips. The tear tracks cutting through his makeup revealed a web of inflamed veins. His eyes burned from within, furious, betrayed, staring straight at Lucio, until he was dragged from view._

_One of the guards asked what happened. Lucio could not answer._

_Another one said they would call for a doctor. Lucio could not answer._

_And when they left, Lucio hunched over and sobbed into his beautiful hands._


	9. love is a battlefield

“Gods,” Julian whispered. “Lu, why?”

“Why what?” Lucio sat back in bed, as though he wanted nothing more than to become one with his feather pillows. 

Julian shook his head. A dull throbbing had begun to spread from his forehead out. “Why did you… he was wasting away, Lu! And you threw him out? Without an ounce of pity? Didn’t you say he was one of your only friends?”

Lucio wouldn’t meet Julian’s eyes. “Yeah, he was. He… wasn’t like everybody else. He didn’t care that I was sick. Maybe he should’ve.”

“And yet you cared so much that when he told you--”

“I know!” Lucio bellowed. “Okay? I know! I just--” He covered his face with his hands. “Seeing the plague… it’s different when it’s right in front of you. I convinced myself for so long that I just had the flu or something, but knowing that this damn plague is happening all around me, destroying everything I’ve built, and my fucking prison cell of a room is the only thing keeping me safe… I got scared, Jules! Can you blame me?” A single scarlet eye peeked out from between his bony fingers. “‘Cause maybe… maybe you should. I think I’d deserve it.”

Julian sighed and reached out to bring Lucio to his chest, stroking up and down his fevered back. “Nobody is blaming anybody. It’s in the past, you can’t change it. All you can do is change your future.”

“Jules, what if-- what if I kill you too? What if-- by being here--”

“Shh. Don’t talk like that. I’m taking the necessary precautions, I promise-- why do you think I wear these big flashy gloves all the time?”

Lucio laughed weakly. “They’re the campiest fucking things I’ve ever seen… here I thought you were just being dramatic!”

Julian grinned into his blonde hair. “Whoops. You got me.”

He tried to withdraw, but Lucio tightened his embrace, burying his face into Julian’s collar. “Not yet,” he murmured. “I like holding you.”

Julian stayed. This was… nice. Familiar. Lucio belonged here, like the gloves around his hands, secure and tight. He allowed his eyes to close, his thoughts to float away…

Until he felt a metallic hand pawing at the front of his pants.

He tried to jerk away, but Lucio held fast. “C’mon, Jules, one little quickie?” Lucio whined.

“No! G-go ask that Consul, whatever his name is!”

“Val? He hasn’t been coming by as often. I’m wasting away here! Me, the Count!” Lucio pressed a sweaty kiss under Julian’s ear. “And you’re my doctor, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be taking care of me.”

“Not that way! I said no!”

Lucio rolled his eyes, but released Julian, who scrambled off the bed like a wet cat. “My gods, you’re no fun at all anymore!”

Julian straightened his shirt. His ears burned and the place where Lucio’s lips touched his skin tingled. “I need to go,” he muttered.

“What, are you gonna go find that little magician and fuck him instead?”

“M-maybe I will!”

“Ughhh.” Lucio fell back into his cushions. His predatory gaze ate right through Julian’s uniform. Gradually, a leer twisted his face. “Y’know, doc, I think you’re forgetting something.”

Julian seized his bag of medical supplies with a growl. “What?”

“I know exactly what turns you on. Bet your bottom dollar that Asra won’t give you what you really want, and you’ll be left alone just like always.”

Julian stiffened. A trickle of doubt rolled down his spine. “That… that doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “I don’t need-- it’s not like I--”

“Go on, Jules. Just wait. You’ll be on your hands and knees crawling back to me before long, bitching and begging for me to take you back.”

“You never had me to begin with.”

A grim laugh made Julian want to curl up in a ball. “Don’t be so sure. Until next time, Dr. Devorak.”

He knew he shouldn’t, he wished he didn’t, but there was no doubt that he had a hard-on as he sped out of the Count’s bedroom. Talking to Lucio had answered ten questions and sewn the seeds for a hundred more unanswered ones. Perhaps he should drop it-- perhaps Aro Slattery just wasn’t worth it. He was dead, after all, so there was no way he could interfere with his plans for Asra.

Asra! Asra should be in the library again today!

He switched destinations at once. Asra could distract him from whatever Lucio just tried. Asra would know exactly what to do.

And… Asra might be mad at him.

Julian slowed his gait, pondering. Yesterday did not end well. Asra had kissed him, but he had left so abruptly afterwards that Julian must have done something wrong. At the very least, Julian could offer his most sincere apologies to him today, so perhaps not all hope was lost. At the very least, he had _one more time_.

As usual, the library was almost empty. Asra was burrowed into the corner surrounded by tiny towers of books while Faust slumbered in a stray sunbeam a foot away. “Hello,” Julian called.

Asra flicked his gaze up from the page. The moment their eyes met, a dull blush spread from the tip of Asra’s nose to his ears. “Hello,” he replied.

“Asra, about yesterday--”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Julian blinked. “You-- you’re sorry? But I’m sorry! Me, I’m the one who--”

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault.” Asra set his book aside, but he didn’t get up from his corner. “I was… carried away. I haven’t been myself as of late and when I saw you like that, my imagination… well. I really am sorry, Ilya.”

Julian approached Asra’s corner warily, to keep from scaring him off. Faust lifted her head up to stick her tongue out at him. “You know, I meant what I said,” he answered. “You mentioned that you needed me for something, yes? I meant it when I said that I’d be happy to help with whatever it is you’re up to.”

Asra met his eyes. There it was again, that sizing up, that distant calculation that Julian could not possibly fathom. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Asra whispered.

“I do! Really, I do!” Julian knelt down, ignoring his cracking joints, so he could sit on the other side of the wall of books. “You’ve had a rough go of it, I can tell. Anything I can do, I’ll do it, you have my word. Anything to get the pep back in your step.”

Asra pursed his lips, fingers tapping the ground. “Ilya… may I ask you something serious? You must promise not to tell anyone else.”

Julian put his hand over his heart. “Doctor’s honor, my dear Asra!”

“Heh. Okay.” Asra crawled forward, breaching the book barricade, so he could lean forward into Julian’s ear. A sudden overwhelming deja-vu struck Julian from a few minutes ago and he shuddered. The warmth of Asra’s breath tickled his lobe. “There is something I feel I must do,” he whispered, “but it frightens me. It goes against everything I have learned until now. I know you’re a reasonable man, I trust your opinion. Should I pursue it or leave it alone?”

A hundred different theories buzzed like flies in the cavern of Julian’s skull. Could Asra… be talking about Julian?

Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Yet, it would make absolute sense-- Asra would be scared of moving on from Aro, holding a torch of obligation in his heart, but his longing for a friend, his need for interaction, they pushed him toward a more than willing Julian!

Julian smiled. “Take the chance, Asra. You won’t regret it. Sometimes, you have to overcome your fear and take a leap of faith.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do. I really do.” Julian raised his hand to cup Asra’s cheek, and almost dissolved into the floor when Asra’s eyes slid shut in submission. “Asra, I-- I want you to know that I’ll support you, n-no matter what! As long as you need me, I’ll be yours!”

Asra tilted his head to nuzzle his nose into Julian’s palm, eyelashes fluttering. “Mine…?”

“Oh gods, yes, yours, only yours, now and forever!”

Asra’s fingers danced around his glove, slipping under the hem and tugging it ever-so-gently off his hand. His hands felt cool as silk against Julian’s once-constricted skin. “Now, doesn’t that sound lovely,” Asra said. “My Ilya. Now and forever.” His lips found the inside of Julian’s wrist and kissed with maddening delicacy. 

“Y-your Ilya,” Julian echoed.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll go through with it after all. I shouldn’t have doubted myself.”

Julian nodded like a puppet.

“Would you come to my shop tonight? Alone?” Asra met his eyes with a grin. “I want to try something with you. It might be a little dangerous.”

“D-danger-rous… is my, hah, my middle name!”

“Dr. Ilya Dangerous Devorak? Heh, I like it.” Asra released him so he could fish around in his satchel for a quill and a scrap of paper. As the magician scribbled his address, Julian wondered if it was possible to get drunk off the contact of another human being. (Or maybe it was just called crazybones horny). 

Asra took the liberty of sliding the address into Julian’s pocket. “Thanks,” Julian replied stupidly.

“Do you have work to take care of today?”

“Well, yes, b-but--”

Asra settled back into his corner with a smile. “There are plenty of desks up here, waiting to be used. And the company would be nice.”

Julian clambered to his feet. “Y-you want me to-- up here? With you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“N-no! No trouble! None at all! I-- I’ll just-- I’ll be back in a jiffy! Need to grab my things! Don’t move a muscle!” Julian scampered across the library, medical bag swinging in hand, certain to make it to the dungeons and back in record time. He might as well be flying from a combination of breathless speed and excitement. 

The rest of the afternoon passed so smoothly, Julian couldn’t even count it as a work day despite the fact that he got more done than he had in a week. He and Asra didn’t talk much as they were both engrossed in their own projects. Everything passed in dreamy silence, broken occasionally by Julian asking questions aloud that Asra didn’t answer. He even allowed Faust to curl up on his desk beside his inkwell. This was ten times better than being cooped up in his office. If he could make a habit out of this routine, the plague cure was as good as his.

Only when Asra rose, stretching and yawning like a cat, did Julian realize time had passed. The rainbow shadows from the stained glass were dim and cold. He reached into his pocket to withdraw his watch and did a double-take. “Is it really so late?” he exclaimed. Brandishing the clock face, he leaned down and mock-glared at Faust. “You didn’t even tell me, little lady! You were supposed to keep me on track!”

She flicked her tongue out in response, causing Asra to burst into laughter. Julian wondered if there was some silent joke that he wasn’t getting. “Faust, really, manners! Come, we need to prepare for tonight.” Asra approached Julian’s desk so he could scoop Faust up and tuck her into his leather satchel. 

Julian’s heart throbbed in his chest. “Prepare…?”

“Are you excited?” Asra gave Julian an eskimo kiss, and even graced his lips with a real kiss, slow and tender that made Julian’s mouth water. When Asra pulled away, he smiled. “You are still coming, aren’t you? You can always change your mind. I, ah, wouldn’t blame you… like I said, it might be--”

“--dangerous?” Julian laughed. “Yes, I recall. Don’t worry. Life without risk isn’t a life worth living.”

“Okay, I wanted to make sure.”

Julian leaned forward and threaded his fingers through Asra’s hair, sighing at the softness. “Ahh… Asra… I do enjoy surprises, but…. I suppose I should ask you what precisely you’re planning. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to give me a hint?”

Asra’s grin faltered. He glanced around the library to check that they were alone. His voice lowered to a secretive hush. “It’s something I’ve been studying,” he admitted. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand. You’re a man of science, not magic. But… you’re familiar with the scientific way to create life, aren’t you?”

Julian blinked, then smirked with realization. “Oho? I suppose you’re referring to procreation, then?”

“Er… yes, I suppose I am. The marriage of sperm and egg and the subsequent growth of a human body.” Again, Asra checked the room before continuing. “According to my research, if used in the correct ritual in combination with a soul, the reaction could potentially recreate a previously existing life. It could create a new vessel, a _new body_ , entirely separate from each donor’s genetic makeup! Do you understand?”

Magic was a foreign subject to Julian. But this? This was _far_ out of his league. He nodded along, hoping that it was polite enough to suffice.

“There, that’s your hint. You aren’t allowed any more.” Asra pecked his lips again. 

“O-oh. Okay.”

“Come only when the sun has set. I want to make sure we’re alone. Promise?”

“Promise! Yes, I promise!”

One final kiss, but this one was sharper, as Asra nibbled on Julian’s bottom lip and soothed it with a kitten lick. Julian tried to follow Asra as he withdrew but all it earned him was a giggle and a playful ruffle through his hair. “Later, Ilya, later!”

Julian groaned and slumped over his desk. “You give fantastic kisses,” he whined.

“Aww. Then I’ll give you all the kisses you want tonight as a reward for your good behavior-- _magician’s honor_.” Asra’s hand slid along his back, and before Julian realized he was leaving, the magician in question was gone, leaving Julian wanting as ever. He ran his fingers through his own hair to try to simulate Asra’s touch. 

Which was when he came to the conclusion that Asra was flirting with him.

All his cryptic explanations could only mean one thing; tonight, Julian was getting laid. Of course Asra would mask his intentions through some kind of magical ritual malarkey. He felt guilt over Aro Slattery’s death, bless his heart, and he needed an excuse to pursue Julian’s attentions instead of outright saying what he felt. 

Julian threw a vindictive glare over his shoulder in the direction of Lucio’s chambers. A surge of pride unfurled from within his chest cavity. He resolved to kill two birds with one stone tonight-- he would show Lucio that he wasn’t a pathetic leech of a man, and he would show Asra that he was a faithful friend and lover who would not back down from a challenge, no matter how much of a coward he had been for the rest of his life.


	10. worst in me

Back in his office, Julian counted the seconds, minutes, hours down to sunset. He handed in his overdue reports to Valdemar, who gave him a rare approving nod that made his blood freeze over, he chatted with Calamity about Portia, who had recently adopted a cat, and when he ran out of responsibilities to occupy himself with, he tried to fix his haggard appearance. 

Julian hadn’t been outside in so long, he almost forgot how to pretty himself up. He took a scalding hot shower and teased his wet hair back away from his face with a broken-toothed comb. A tiny vial of cologne was resurrected from its burial site in his underwear drawer. For the second time in two days, his little mirror came in handy, as he spent an anxious half hour blending shadow around his eyes and lining his lips in a subtle pink that (he hoped) might be appropriate for a romantic night in.

His uniform wouldn’t do tonight, either. He dug his old clothes out of the bottom drawer of his desk-- a puffy satin shirt and dashing form-fitting pants-- and paced in them while he waited. 

At last, he decided to leave early, because, why, he might get lost on the way to the shop, and he would hate to be late! He snagged the address from his uniform pocket and transferred it to his hand before hurrying out of the dungeon.

Oh, how he missed this. The warm Vesuvian night air smelled of summer. A fat waxing moon hung low in the air, so luminous that the streets didn’t need lamps. Out of the palace, Julian realized just how sweltering this season had become, and his decision to wear tight pants haunted him as he strode through the empty streets. No revelatory citizens were out tonight. The plague had quieted the entire city. 

Julian didn’t get lost, of course. When he first moved to Vesuvia, he made it his business to memorize the map of the city, so finding even the tiniest magic shop was child’s play. At least the moon lighting the way was on his side. The place was unmarked and subdued, furnished with black curtains covering where the window displays ought to be, but the address matched and flickering gold light spilled into the street from the second level, so it couldn’t be a mistake.

He loitered outside of Asra’s store for a minute or two to psyche himself up before finally knocking on the door. There was a clattering from within, a padding of feet, and Asra appeared in the door, disheveled and distressed. “Ilya,” he said.

“That’s my name! How are--”

“Come in, come in, I’m almost ready,” Asra continued. He seized Julian by the wrist to drag him in.

“Ah--! There’s no rush, really!”

“Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? I’m sure I’ve got something stronger if you need it…”

Julian tried to take in his surroundings as they whipped past him. A circle of candles. Chalk drawings on the floor and climbing up the walls. “I don’t need-- I suppose some coffee--? Where are we--”

“Upstairs. Come on.” Asra towed him up the stairs. For how small he stood compared to Julian, he was shockingly strong. Julian tried to crane his head to take in more of the shadowy scene downstairs but he was pulled away too soon.

“Asra, slow down!”

“Did you say you wanted tea?”

“Er, no, but--”

“I’ll put the kettle on. Sit. Relax.” Asra guided him over to a single motheaten armchair and plopped him down. He sped away to the kitchenette before Julian could stop him.

Julian wasn’t sure what he was expecting in Asra’s apartment, but it wasn’t this. The dusty furniture was elegant and outdated. A few decorative crystals were scattered around any and all free surfaces but they were the only colorful elements, the only signs of life. If Julian didn’t know otherwise, he wouldn’t think anybody lived here at all. Even the kitchen was devoid of food and used dishes. “Calamity Crow used to live here, didn’t she?” Julian said.

“Her room is down the hall. This complex belonged to her aunt, so most of the furniture is handed down.” Asra scooped a heaping spoonful of tea leaves into a strainer, spilling half of the contents across the counter. “Ah-- fuck!”

Julian hadn’t heard Asra swear before. He chuckled and got up from his chair so he could sweep the spilled leaves into his palm. “You don’t have to be nervous, Asra.”

“I’m n-not!”

“No?” Julian dumped the leaves into the sink so he could use both hands to run up Asra’s arms. “You’re trembling. Is everything alright? What do you need?”

Asra shook his head, wrung his hands. “I… Ilya, I… I’m sorry… I’ve been doubting myself, doubting everything, and… and I think maybe I shouldn’t have asked you here… I think this is all wrong and I’ve gotten myself into something I shouldn’t have...”

Julian pulled him into a hug. Asra’s hair smelled like chalk and smoke and fruity shampoo. “It’s alright,” he crooned. “Everything will be alright. If you want me to leave, then I’ll leave, of course, but if, if you want to talk about it, maybe I can--”

“No thank you,” Asra interrupted.

“A-ah. Okay, then I’ll, uh, be here for moral support. As long as you want me. Yes? How does that sound?”

Asra snuggled into Julian’s collarbone. “You smell good,” he mumbled, trailing his fingers down Julian’s torso. “Is that teakwood? Did you wear cologne for me, Ilya?”

Julian blushed. “Ahem. Y-yep. Wanted to smell good for you.”

“That was thoughtful of you.” Asra took a deep steadying breath that heated Julian’s skin. He was so warm, so soft, so innocent, all Julian wanted was to keep him here, protect him for the rest of time. “Haah… thank you.” Asra withdrew from Julian’s embrace all too soon. “I need you to stay up here for a moment. I have to finish preparing the r-- the-- ah, it should only be a minute or two. Make yourself at home, okay?”

“Yes! Okay, yes!” Julian watched Asra head back down the stairs. Perhaps he was getting into something he should be running away from. Martzel’s warnings came back all at once after their previous banishment. Julian could recall plain as night the vision of the historian’s earrings sparkling as much as his dewey eyes as he spoke. What was it he said…? Something about an “aura”?

That must have been the grief from Aro’s death, Julian reasoned. Anyone’s aura would be “twisted” if the person they loved most died-- especially after, allegedly, unresolved tension died with them.

However, that didn’t explain the strange shadowy scene downstairs. He recalled glimpses of candles, of swirling chalk designs. Julian may not be an expert on magic but the prickling at the top of his spine was enough to tell him that this wasn’t normal. Perhaps that was what Asra meant when he said that tonight might be dangerous.

The kettle whistled, breaking him out of his ponderings. He made himself a cup of tea without milk or sugar, which Asra seemed to be lacking no matter how many cupboards he poked around in. Nothing in the kitchen could be used to cook a reasonable meal apart from a rack of untouched spices and a cobweb-blanketed bag of flour. He was just about to check the rest of the apartment when Asra’s snowy head popped back into view. “How do you feel about blindfolds?” he declared.

“B-blindfolds?”

“Yes, blindfolds,” Asra said. He lifted a patterned scarf into the air. “A covering over your eyes without inhibiting your ability to breathe. Are you comfortable with wearing them?”

Julian had to physically restrain an eager smile from crossing his face. “I, ah, yes, I am. I have… I have some experience with them.”

“And restraints? Around your wrists, for example?”

Better and better! “Oh, yes! I’m quite at home in them!”

Asra smiled and leaned against the bannister. “Wonderful. Strip for me.”

Julian almost spilled his tea. “St-strip? Are we-- do you, ah, want to--”

“Do you remember what I told you?” Asra toyed with the scarf in his hands, winding it between his fingers, supple as water. “Good behavior, following orders without question, will be rewarded. Do you want me to kiss you like I said, Ilya? Anywhere and everywhere you ask?” His smile quirked up into a sneer. “You _did_ promise to help me with whatever I needed, did you not?”

Julian placed the tea on the counter to avoid any potential accidents so his fingers could fly to his buttons. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Good. Then follow my instructions. It shouldn’t be anything you can’t handle.”

He should have asked what Asra has in store for him. He should have pointed out that there ought to be a safeword. He should have said that it was ridiculous for Asra to expect that he would follow every single nonsensical order without question.

He did not.

Asra’s eyes lingered around his chest, then his torso, then his pelvis, lashes weighing more with each removed piece of clothing. The scarf stopped meandering through his hands and hung trapped and lifeless in his grasp. Julian hoped that his blush wasn’t too pronounced, but based on previous experience, his entire head probably looked like a tomato. 

“My, my underthings too?” he stammered, knowing the answer. 

Asra nodded with a leer. “There’s no need to be shy around me.”

Julian obeyed without a second thought. “W-where’s, ah, Faust?” he asked.

“She didn’t want to be here tonight,” Asra said. “She’s staying with a friend in the forest.”

“Oh, a--”

“Come here. I’ll tie you up.”

Julian stumbled over his own feet at least twice in the short time it took to meet Asra at the stairs. Asra turned him around and wrapped the scarf around his wrists, deceptively gentle, as when Julian tried to test the restraint, he couldn’t move his hands more than an inch. “Ngk-- thorough work! Asra, I-- I suppose I should ask-- what exactly are we--”

He cut himself off with an unrepressed moan as Asra dragged his palms up Julian’s stomach to cup his chest. “You aren’t bad to look at,” Asra told him, and kissed his bicep. “Really. Not bad at all.”

“Ah... I think-- I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen-!”

Asra giggled. “Ohh, how sweet of you! I almost feel bad taking away your eyesight if it means I can’t hear you complimenting me all night!”

Julian could feel his own chest heaving under Asra’s velvety hands, yet the air didn’t seem to be filling his lungs. “I d-don’t need to look at you,” he said. “I can see you… every time I close my eyes, like a dream…!”

“A dream? My, you do have a way with words, Ilya. A good thing, since you use them so much. You don’t write poetry, do you?”

“Erm, never tried-- but maybe I should. I c-could write about you for days on end.”

Asra released him, so he could amble around to Julian’s front, eyes roving over every inch of skin in sight. “Lovely,” he appraised.

“Do you think so?” Julian wheezed.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re very lovely, indeed.” Asra took a second smaller scarf from his pocket, giving Julian a comforting smile. “Now lean down. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you won’t bump into anything.”

Julian gulped. Dread climbed up his back to cling around his throat. “Bump into anything…? We aren’t… going downstairs, are we? Down to all that, er, creepy candle stuff?”

Asra raised his eyebrows and beckoned Julian’s head closer. “Yes,” he replied. “That is exactly where we’re going. That’s what the _blindfold_ is for.”


	11. spell on you (NSFW) (dubcon)

With each guided step down, Julian descended deeper into the pits of hell. The combination of his own boiling blood with the summer heat was stifling. Asra’s hands were his anchors, one in the small of his back and one at his arm, and Asra’s words were his compass. “Step-- step-- step-- good, one more-- and we’re on the ground. That wasn’t too hard, was it? Now come this way-- no, stop, I need you to take a step around to the side-- there, perfect! Forward now, more, more, a little more, aaand stop! Down on your knees, that’s it, that’s a good boy. You aren’t uncomfortable, are you? No? Lovely. If I didn’t know any better, Ilya, I’d say you had experience in this position.”

Julian chuckled through his nerves. “Got me there.”

“Now, let me guide you through what is about to happen. Once you’ve finished, I’ll help you back upstairs so you’ll be safe while you wait. Under no circumstances will you so much as look down from the head of the stairs, much less come back, no matter what you hear. Will you do this?”

“Erm… I suppose so?”

“Promise me, Ilya.”

Now Julian was really getting nervous. His nape hairs stood on end. “Asra, what exactly are we doing? Are you putting yourself in danger?”

A firm hand gripped his chin. “Promise me. You’ve come this far, haven’t you? Are you a man of your word or not?”

He wanted to be. By the gods above, he wanted to be a man of his word for once in his life. He steeled himself and replied, “I promise, Asra. I won’t come downstairs until you call for me.”

Asra’s lips met his, and he groaned into his mouth. Kissing Asra in the dark was a completely new experience. Asra was sublime, Asra was the only thing that mattered, and everywhere Asra touched buzzed with splendid electricity. When Asra pulled away, Julian let out a desperate whimper. “Asra, don’t stop,” he whined. “Please? Please don’t stop!”

Asra laughed and traced the frame of Julian’s broad shoulders. If Julian concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat of Asra’s breath on his cheek. “You know what I want you to do,” Asra said. His hands slid down Julian’s chest, abdomen, thighs, pulling them apart just so. “What do you need?”

“Asra, I need _you_!”

“And I’m here, Ilya, I’m here. What I mean is, do you need something to help you along? Lube? Clamps? Something in your ass?”

He was coming back to familiar territory. Some of his fears abated. Maybe this was some kind of roleplay thing, and the unsettling candles were all part of the act. “I need you,” he repeated. “I just… I think I could cum just from your touch. Knowing that you’re here and, and being so good to me… you could do whatever you’d like, really, as long as I can feel you!”

Asra sighed. Julian wished he could see Asra’s face to determine if it was contented or not. Either way, Asra leaned in closer, so his lips brushed the shell of Julian’s ear. “Do you want me to undress?”

“Ah-- yes! V-very much!”

He regretted his answer almost at once as Asra backed away, leaving him alone on the floor. The faint susurrus of fabric was his only indication. “I wish I could see you,” Julian mourned softly.

“I’m afraid that it’s better this way. Do you think you could continue with your wonderful praises? It’s been far too long since someone has told me how much they liked me.”

“Oh, that’s easy! Asra, since the moment I saw you, I felt so drawn to you, like… ah, this sounds sappy, but like you put a spell on me. Like… I’ve been hoodwinked into this, this adoration, almost against my own better judgement. And-- ah!” His breath caught in his throat as Asra settled into his lap. The magician’s skin against his was nothing short of divine. His thighs, straddling Julian’s hips, divine, his chest, brushing Julian’s chest, divine, his hands, caressing down the curve of Julian’s spine, divine...! And Julian didn’t deserve it, he knew he didn’t! He leaned forward and found Asra’s neck and kissed his gratitude between shallow breaths. “Dearest,” he rasped, tasting oud and salt, “dearest, oh, dearest, dearest…”

Asra kissed his forehead just above his blindfold. “This is going to be easier than I thought,” he teased. 

“I’m-- I’m v-very easy!”

“Haha! Yes, but in a good way.” Asra’s hands left him and the pop of an uncorked bottle caught Julian’s attention through the haze. 

“Ah-- Asra--”

“Just a moment, darling, be patient. I think you’ll enjoy this more if I can move unimpeded.”

And just as Julian was about to ask what that meant, a set of slick fingers wrapped around his cock, and the question died in his throat. “Asraaa-- aahhh…”

“Tell me if I do anything wrong, and I’ll stop.”

“You couldn’t you couldn’t possibly…”

His hand started with slow meaningful strokes from base to tip, pausing at each end to fondle before continuing its rhythm. “Have you hoped that I would touch you like this?” Asra asked gently. “Have you thought of me in that way, Ilya?”

Julian fell into the comfort of Asra’s sweet-smelling shoulder. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Have you touched yourself, like this, while you thought of me?”

“Yes, gods, yes… I i-imagined it was you… your ha-ands…”

“And is the real thing just as good as your imagination?”

“Mmph… even better… you’re better than everything, everything I’ve ever known…”

Asra carded through Julian’s hair with his free hand, not forceful enough to remove Julian from his sanctuary but enough to send tiny shoots of resplendent pain through his roots. “You’re a good man, Ilya Dangerous Devorak,” he murmured. “Really, you are. No matter what anyone tells you, remember that your heart is true and pure.”

Julian grinned. “Come on, I’m supposed to be f-flattering you!” Asra groped his balls, massaging, and Julian’s next breath melted into a purr.

“Focus on your orgasm. Don’t worry about anything else. Put your trust in me, and everything will be alright.”

Trust. Trust in Asra. Trust was such a funny word, such a terrible word. Julian trusted people far too easily. He had heard this before-- from his mentors, his friends, his past lovers-- that his trust should not be given to every winning smile and kind word.

Yet, despite all this…

“Yes, Asra,” Julian whispered. “I trust you.”

Asra brushed the hair from Julian’s forehead so he could press a fervent kiss there. A haunting melody grew in the depths of Asra’s chest, humming Julian into a trance with each note, fingering to the gradual beat of his own lullabye. Pleasure mingled with rising contentment. Julian softened like butter in the sun as his cock hardened, inhaling Asra, intent upon memorizing his scent, his flavor, his richness, before the night was done. Fleeting paper notions bobbed across the surface of his mind, but only for a few seconds at a time before they were pulled under. 

Next time-- if there was a next time, as he hoped-- he would ask Asra not to tie him up, so he could savor Asra’s waist under his hands, and offer the same release that Asra so graciously gave him. For now all he could do was float in a bath of ecstasy. 

Except… through the current and gloom, a blazing thought pierced him, seemingly out of nowhere.

Aro Slattery was a singer.

Was there a chance that Asra learned the song he was humming... from a dead man?

An unbidden whimper escaped Julian’s mouth. Asra ceased his singing, but his hand didn’t stop. “Are you close?” he crooned.

“I-- Asra-- y-yes, but--”

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to stop?”

Julian’s tongue swelled to twice its usual size. The thrumming between his legs was incessant. “N-no-- d-don’t _ngk_ stop!”

“You’re doing so well, dear one. Just a bit more.”

Julian gasped into Asra’s collarbone. “But I-- want it to last! I don’t _ah_ want to- to leave! Fuck!”

The fingers around his cock tightened and _jerked_. “We’re on a _schedule_ , Ilya. I don’t have to be kind to you if I don’t want to.”

“Sc-sche-edule--?”

“Oh?” Julian could feel Asra’s sneer against the crown of his head. “Am I mistaken, or do you enjoy a bit of pain?”

Julian whined, nuzzling into Asra like a faithful hound. “I d-o-- I do! Asra!”

Asra tugged at him again. This time, Julian keened at the ache. “Aren’t you just full of surprises,” Asra said. “If I had known that earlier, this would have gone much faster. Well, I suppose it’s too late now… ahh, there you are. Why don’t you be a good boy for me? Come, Ilya. _Now_.”

He did, screaming. The ocean in his mind drowned all at once to send him spiraling down, down, a million plummeting leagues, landing in a heap in Asra’s arms. Asra’s slick hand raised to trace around Julian’s cheekbones. “-- good, good, that was perfect. You’re all done. Can you walk? Here, stand up, lean on me.”

Asra tried to hoist him up, but Julian fell back to his knees almost immediately. “Oomph! W-wait, just a second…!”

“We can’t wait. Come on, I’ll help you.”

Only then did Julian hear the wind. The whistling and roaring sounded like it should be swirling around the shop, blowing out the candles, even loosening the scarf from his eyes, but there was no tangible force behind it. His afterglow halted as terror gripped him by the heart, through the ribs, snap snap snap like Amanita Villarreal. “What is this?” he whispered.

“Ilya--”

“What’s happening? Asra, I don’t like this!”

“I know, I know, that’s why we’re getting you upstairs!” A pair of arms wrapped around his torso and heaved him halfway to his feet. Asra hissed through his teeth. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the wind. “Ghh, you’re heavier than you look! A little help, please?”

Julian struggled to free his hands as he half-staggered where Asra led him. “Hands-- Asra, my h-hands--”

Asra propped him against a cold length (bannister?) so he could unwork the knot. Now there was an odd smell, and Julian recognized it from the first time he met the magician, that salty, bitter, metallic… _blood_?!

The moment he was free, Julian sped for his blindfold, but Asra seized his wrists. “Not yet! I told you, I’ll help you up--”

“When this is over-- whatever this, this is-- you’re t-telling me everything. You’re explaining everything.”

“Ilya, now is _not_ the time!”

“ _Everything_ , you selfish witch!” Julian snarled.

Wind howled from everywhere and nowhere. Asra didn’t answer, but yanked him from the bannister so they could repeat their ritual of ascending the stairs. Up. Pause. Up. Pause. So it went. Asra tried to place a gentle hand on Julian’s back, but it was shrugged away. When Julian’s feet found the landing, he freed himself undid his blindfold, blinking even in the dim lamplight as he rounded on Asra. “I’m keeping my word,” he growled. “Go back down there. If you’re lucky, when it’s all over, I’ll alert the militia to pick you up and haul you to the morgue.”

Asra’s expression was unreadable; not because his usual mask-like countenance would make the most experienced actor envious, but because so many emotions reacted with each other all at once, it was impossible to pick one out. There were hints of terror, but there was also fury, and shame, and… excitement. His amethyst eyes seemed to glow all on their own. “You’ll see,” he whispered.

“Ohoho, I’m sure I fucking will!”

“I’ll show you! I’ll show all of you! Just you wait!” Asra whirled around and ran back down into the voidlike blackness of the shop.

Julian let out a nerve-wracked sigh. He trudged to the kitchenette and took a sip of cold tea. He never liked tea. The impossible air downstairs, muffled through the floor, was loud enough to keep him rigid and flighty, so he put his clothes back on to distract himself. 

He should never have come. He should have known that this was a bad idea, that jumping in head-first was going to be trouble. Perhaps Asra really did use some kind of spell to warp his judgement and he was just now waking up-- yet, despite knowing this, he longed to race downstairs and get Asra out of there, to save him from what could only be ruination. He paced from one end of the room to the other so every so often he could glance at the head of the stairs to check for Asra’s downy head. 

Through the billowing wind, he thought he could hear Asra’s voice chanting something in a foreign language, but as soon as he strained to listen, it would fade away. Damn him! Damn Asra! If it went wrong, he would deserve getting blown to bits!

Or… Julian might be looking at it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Asra’s fault that he was so heartless. Didn’t Martzel say that grief had turned him into a different person? In the end, didn’t the blame fall to Aro Slattery?

The moment he reached this conclusion, a chilling shriek cut through the night. The currents below Julian’s feet died and vanished. He sprinted to the stairs. “Asra? Asra! Are you there? Can you hear me?”

No reply. Julian gritted his teeth, fingers tightening on the bannister. A promise could be broken if it was for the greater good. He was just about to take a step down when Asra’s shadow emerged from the darkness. Against his better judgement, he let out a relieved sigh. “Asra! What happened? Are you alright?”

Asra’s head hung low. Each step he took seemed to exhaust every last ounce of energy. His hands were caked in a mixture of ash and mud. When he reached the top of the staircase, he met Julian’s eyes, and, to Julian’s horror, burst into tears, falling to the floor and weeping into his filthy palms. Julian knelt beside him. “Asra? Darling, dearest, what is it? Talk to me. Gods, tell me what’s going on, what’s come over you…”

“D-i-dn’t-- work-- I f-f-ailed him-- fail-ed _you_ \-- Ilya--!” 

Without warning, Asra fell into Julian’s arms. Unintelligible sobs made his entire body tremble. Julian combed through Asra’s hair and held him close. The candles downstairs flickered back to life, one at a time, as though nothing had happened.


	12. i wanna be yours

There was not much talking that night. As soon as Asra released Julian from his iron grip, Julian made him a cup of tea and washed his hands and face in utter silence, while Asra lapsed into spasming hiccups for minutes at a time before crying anew. Julian had never been in the presence of someone so wholly broken before. It reminded Julian of himself, and it horrified him.

The tea calmed Asra down. After a few sips, the magician, still dressed in nothing but his underwear, crawled into bed, and Julian, thinking he wasn’t wanted, started to leave, but Asra stopped him with a weak, “wait, I-- I’ll tell you. Whatever you want. R-really.”

Julian caught his eye. An hour ago, he would have happily crawled under the sheets that Asra held up, and reveled in the fact that Asra trusted him so deeply. Now, he approached with a wary stare down his hooked nose. He ran his fingers down Asra’s cheek and shuddered at his softness. “You’re lying,” Julian muttered.

“No. I’m not. I promise, I’ve never lied once to you.”

“Don’t start with technicalities--”

“I’m sorry!” Asra squeaked. “I know you’re angry, and you should be, but I-- I need someone here. Just for a little while. Please?” He laced his fingers between Julian’s white ones and kissed across his knuckles.

Julian sank into the mattress, sitting up against the bedframe with his beanpole legs stretched out, and allowed Asra to snuggle into him like a domestic cat. “I don’t understand magic,” Julian began. “Never did. Probably never will.”

“I know.”

“So… maybe I shouldn’t ask. It was some magic stuff, down there, that’s what was causing the… everything, right?”

“Yes. A ritual, to be exact. Rituals in this case are spells that require physical ingredients. Like, um, the candles, the chalk...” Asra took a long drink of tea before continuing, “... and, you know, cum...”

“What?!”

Julian shot up, almost spilling Asra’s tea in the process, and Asra had to soothe him with a few shushes and caresses around his shoulder. “Ilya, I thought I told you! Didn’t I make things clear back at the palace?”

“I thought you were trying to tell me you wanted me to go down on you or something!”

“If I wanted someone to go down on me, you would be the last person I would ask, no offense,” Asra replied coolly. “No, I used your semen in the ritual. I collected mine before you arrived to spare you the trouble.”

Julian bit back the urge to tell Asra that it wouldn’t be any trouble at all. “I… okay. Okay. Sex ritual. Okay.”

“It’s not a--”

“You said something about a, erm, new body? Is that what all this was for?”

Asra burrowed into Julian’s side to avoid looking at his face. “It didn’t work. My research was all wrong. This ritual wasn’t strong enough to conjure a durable flesh-and-bones body, and now I have to start from the beginning.”

Julian paused, then asked, “what the hell do you need a human body for?”

“I… oh, Ilya… that’s the one thing I can’t tell you…” Asra sniffled a fresh wave of tears back. “Please don’t ask me that. I’m so, so sorry, for everything I’ve done-- a-anything else, I’ll explain, I swear!”

Julian sighed and shook his head. “No. Not tonight. You need… rest, yes, rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“T-tomorrow.”

Julian started to get up, but Asra clung to his shirt, yelping, “wait! Not yet, please? Would you-- just for a few minutes? Please, Ilya?”

And how could he say no to that face? He allowed Asra to curl up in his lap, cheek against his chest, quiet and calm, and he couldn’t suppress his mollified delight when Asra allowed him to pet his bare back and thighs. This bittersweet bliss lasted for about half an hour. Julian gently wrested Asra’s sleeping form off, tucking him into bed and clearing his mug, before leaving for good.

The shop was far less threatening in the twilight, even less when Julian blew out all the candles. All furniture and goods had been cleared out to make way for a circle of chalk in the center of the room. A few porcelain bowls were placed in strategic areas, but he didn’t dare to check their contents.

Back at the palace, Julian didn’t get any sleep. How could he? A hundred warring feelings made his mind their battleground-- Asra’s eyes, Asra’s skin, Asra’s silken voice, and through it all was pure terror. 

This sleepless night wasn’t an unusual occurrence, of course, but given his emotional exhaustion on top of his fatigue, there was no possibility of productivity as the morning arrived. The eyeshadow from last night was indistinguishable from the sleep-deprived bags around his eyes.

He slogged up the library with a bag full of medical notes as the sun rose. Asra, predictably, hadn’t arrived yet, so Julian set up at a desk alone. He was just contemplating a run down to the kitchens for a cup of coffee and a biscuit when a peppy Martzel Morell entered the library, accompanied by none other than Calamity Crow. “-- trust me, I know I saw it,” he was saying to an unconvinced Calamity.

“If you dragged me back to the palace for nothing, I’ll hack you to ribbons,” she grumbled.

“Remind me never to give you a sharp object, Crow.” Martzel caught Julian’s eye and froze in place. “Ah-- Dr. Devorak!”

Calamity followed suit. “Boss, what the fuck are you doing here?” she said.

“I could ask you the same, and far more eloquently,” Julian shot back.

“I’m not the one who looks like an overgrown raccoon!”

Martzel stepped between them, hands outstretched as though he was taming tigers rather than people. “Now, now, let’s remain civil-- Miss Crow and I were simply passing through. The last time I visited the library, I found a necromancy textbook, and she wanted me to show her.”

Despite not having made any promises to him, Julian felt awkward all the same, seeing as he blatantly ignored all of Martzel’s advice. He shuffled his feet while he spoke. “Well-- ah, be my guest! I’m just here for a bit of studying!”

“You’ve never used the library before. I’ve never even seen you in the palace before,” Calamity piped up.

“I needed… sunlight,” Julian lied. “Humans are very plantish, you know. Many similarities. Er, light, water, food-- sugar, more like--”

Calamity cut him off with a groan and tugged on Martzel’s sleeve. “Quick, I don’t want to be stuck in here with him all morning!”

Martzel chuckled and pointed her in the right direction, whispering something in her ear before allowing her to scurry off and investigate. He shot a roguish grin Julian’s way. “I ran into her in the gardens a while back,” he explained.

“Really? I thought she was allergic to sunlight.”

“Ah, her partner was holding an umbrella for her. She really is quite vampiric.” 

An image of Portia helping Calamity with a black umbrella that was too big for both of them made Julian smile. “Heh. Imagine that.”

“I don’t mean to be forward, but you don’t look very well,” Martzel said. He leaned forward and studied Julian’s face, frowning. “Are you alright? Do you need something to eat or drink?”

“Ngh-- yes, I mean no! I mean--!”

Martzel took him by the arms and guided him back to his desk, which Julian collapsed into unprompted. “There… my gods, you look faint! Please, can I get you something?” Julian allowed Martzel to press his hand to his forehead. His palms were calloused, to Julian’s surprise, with the patterns of an expert swordsman. “Hm… a light fever, nothing too serious… perhaps you should take a sick day…”

Julian shook his head, but it was more half-hearted than he wanted. “Your concern is, is appreciated, but I couldn’t possibly!”

“Good luck convincing _him_ to take a break,” Calamity cut in. She strode past the desk with a massive black tome in hand, obscuring the title behind her arm. “Can we talk when you’re free, Dr. Devorak? I’ll be in the dungeons.”

Before Julian could respond, Martzel reproached her with a frown. “You don’t mind if I keep him here for a bit, do you? He’s borderline feverish.”

“Sure, whatever. Thanks for the book.”

Julian hardly registered when she strode back to the secret passage. Even the scraping of stone sounded distant and dream-like. Now that he was sitting down without something to occupy his mind, he felt the effects of last night’s encounter weighing him down more fully than ever. He clasped a shaky hand around Martzel’s shoulder. “I’m s-sorry,” he muttered.

“What? Whatever for?”

“Should’ve… should’ve listened to you…” 

Martzel furrowed his brow and knelt down beside Julian’s chair. “What are you talking about?”

“Asra Alnazar… I should’ve listened, and now I’m-- I’m all washed up, I’m the greatest fool in all of Vesuvia!”

Martzel’s mouth fell open in a wordless “o”. He inched closer and ran a comforting hand up and down Julian’s arm. “What happened? He hasn’t done anything to you, has he, Dr. Devorak?”

Julian screwed up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, unable to answer. _It’s always yes and no with you, Jules._ “I-- maybe--? I don’t-- but it isn’t his fault, it can’t be--”

“If he has harmed you, I would happily apprehend him, or even tell Nadia if you wanted!”

“It’s because of Aro Slattery,” Julian said. His eyes flew open. “All of it. Lucio, Crow, Asra, even you-- everything traces back to one man!”

“You never met him, you do not know what--”

“I’m right, aren’t I? Tell me I’m wrong!” Julian’s fingers tightened on Martzel’s shoulder, eyes bulged. “He’s at the center of this, this tangled web!”

Martzel sighed. His golden earrings reflected the dawn as he bowed his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Aro Slattery was a good man. Yes, he made some mistakes, just like the rest of us, but he does not deserve to be vilified in death.”

“How could he have hurt so many people without knowing it? In what world were his intentions pure?”

“Dr. Devorak, I can assure you--”

Julian seized Martzel’s other shoulder. “You hardly knew him! You admitted it yourself! This fever-- _this obsession_ \-- it isn’t my fault, it’s his, isn’t it? Isn’t it!”

“You’re delusional!” Martzel barked.

“Delusional? Ha! I’m the last sane man in the entire royal palace!”

Martzel pried Julian’s hands from his shoulders and shot back up to his feet. “I will not listen to you besmirch a dead man’s memory just because you are looking for a concrete conclusion. Emotions, Dr. Devorak, are messy things, and they don’t need a catalyst to make people do terrible things.”

Julian stood up too, though he swayed a little. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. I know exactly what the hell I’m doing.”

“We have nothing further to discuss,” Martzel spat. “Give my regards to Miss Crow. I’m leaving.”

“Do you think you’re defending his honor, Mr. Morell? You think you’re some kind of noble knight? Because from what I’ve heard, he never even loved you!”

“You-- you have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oho? Did I strike a nerve?” Julian leered at Martzel even as held himself upright with a hand on the desk. “Aro Slattery was a heartless bastard who didn’t care for anyone but himself. Count Lucio told me so. Do you think you’re special? Think he took pity on you because you gave yourself to him, eh, followed him like a fucking hound, not bothering to ask what dark deeds he was using you for?”

Martzel gritted his teeth. His hand flew to his belt where a small sheath undoubtedly carried a dagger, but the blade wasn’t withdrawn. “This isn’t about Aro, this is about Asra Alnazar, isn’t it?” he hissed.

Julian recoiled at the name, sinking back into his chair. Shame trickled down the back of his neck. “I-- I didn’t-- I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what-- what came over me, I--”

“Take. The day. Off,” Martzel snarled. He removed his hand from his belt. “Go get some sleep, some-- some food. Ask Crow to look after you. You are in no state to be making decisions”

“I don’t w-want to burden--”

“I’m serious. You are not well. I will tell Nadia that you are to be given clearance for missing work today and you will tell Crow that you need someone to look after you today. She’ll make sure that you’re safe.”

Julian glanced up at Martzel, throat tight with a million apologies, mustering a meek, “thank you, Mr. Morell.”

Martzel still wouldn’t meet his eyes. The historian simply reached out and patted his hand on the desk before striding out of the library without a backwards glance. Julian fell forward into his own arms, more fatigued than ever.


	13. toys

But he couldn’t brood forever. As much as wallowing in self-pity was a favorite pastime, he promised Calamity Crow that he would visit her, and he promised Martzel Morell that he would take care of himself, and he might implode if he said no to two people in one day. He left his research on his desk and trekked back to the dungeon. The staircase, the passage, the elevator, everything took twice as long to traverse. Julian was barely lucid and he knew it. 

Almost the moment he stepped out of the antechamber, clumsily fixing a mask over his head, he was jerked by the elbow and dragged past the operating theatre. “Ack-- Crow! Give me a second!”

“Took you long enough.”

He gave up with the mask. Nobody seemed to care about precautions anymore anyway. Calamity forced him into her office and locked the door behind. Her workplace was far more barebones than his, lacking even a cot, and Julian wondered if she had moved in with Portia. She pushed him into the single chair at her desk with the strength of two Martzels. “How is it that you look worse than a few minutes ago?” she demanded.

Julian cast his gaze down at the desk. “Um. Martzel and I… got in a fight. Kind of.” That black leatherbound book from the library was open, written in a language he didn’t understand, but a familiar circular diagram caught his attention. “Hey-- hey, is this a book of rituals?”

“How do you know that?” Calamity slammed the book closed and stowed it under a pile of medical reports.

“Erm, long story.”

“Well, that’s not what we’re talking about. Remember a couple days ago when you asked me about Asra Alnazar?”

Julian’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, of course! But you said--”

“I changed my mind,” she snapped. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Martzel because he gets sad and mopey whenever Aro’s name comes up. I think he’s got a savior complex or something.”

“Aro Slattery? Did you know him?”

Calamity bit her lip. “I mean, he lived with me and Asra, so of course I did… urgh, no, he was more than that. He was a good friend.”

Julian squinted at her. “That isn’t what I heard. I’ve been doing my own investigating--”

“You aren’t going to find anybody who knows him better than me,” she interrupted. “Well, maybe Asra, but he’s the last person who would talk about it.”

“And why are you telling me now? You nearly sobbed when I asked you about him earlier.”

Calamity fiddled with her gloves. True to Julian’s word, her features were tight and painful. “Martzel said… he said you were asking about him, so…”

“Crow, since when have you been so considerate?” Julian teased, but to his surprise, Calamity kept going.

“... circumstances are changing, and if something happens, I’d want... I mean, you know I’d want you to know the whole truth, in case I’m gone and his memory is-- is gone with me.”

Julian offered one of his hands for something to cling to, and he hadn’t even expected her to take it in both her tiny gloved ones. “Crow…? Are you that worried about the plague? Is this the same as it was with Portia?”

She shook her head. “No, this is different. I’m not sick. I’m not dying. I-- I can’t explain now, okay? Do you want to hear about Aro or not?”

“I… I suppose I do…”

“Fine. Then shut up and listen.”

\--

_Aro held up a pastel yellow dress to the cloud-muffled sunlight. “Aha!” he exclaimed. “Callie! Callie, this is the one!”_

_“You’ve said that about everything you’ve picked out,” Calamity grumbled, but she trotted up anyway, black parasol in one hand and shopping bags in the other. She studied the dress, then Aro’s eager face, and shook her head. “No.”_

_“No?!”_

_“It’s_ yellow _.”_

_Aro groaned and replaced the dress on the cart display. “I thought you liked yellow. I thought orange was the worst color.”_

_“It is, but it’s basically the same as yellow.”_

_“No! No it-- urgh. You’re gonna kill me, Callie.”_

_She shrugged. “Sorry. I guess you have to give up on your quest.”_

_Aro crossed his arms over his chest and glared down his nose at his friend. “No way. There’s an entire market of cute clothes, most of which_ are not black _\--” Calamity sniffed and turned away-- “--and I’m gonna find you something featuring_ at least _one color of the rainbow if it’s the last thing I do.”_

_“Impossible.”_

_“No, you’re impossible!”_

_“Guilty. Can we go back to the nursery carts now?”_

_But Aro was already marching away to sniff out the next potential aesthetic, so Calamity trailed behind. She had only agreed to this trip because she had an ulterior motive, but she had been putting it off for so long, and every minute it lingered in the back of her mind, the worse it ached. Maybe telling him would be easier if she wasn’t so blunt-- it was worth a shot._

_She snuck up behind Aro, who was rummaging through a stack of pleated scarlet skirts, and said, “how’s palace life?”_

_“Hm? Oh, it’s amazing! I get to sing every day and sleep in a fancy bed when I’m done! Plus--” Aro withdrew a jangling velvet purse from his pocket, “I’ve made more money than I have in years of touring! You saw what the palace was like when you came to visit. The royal family can spend whatever they want on whatever they want. It’s incredible!”_

_Well, fuck. Calamity tried a different approach. “What about the Count? I heard he’s a real asshole. It must be awful spending every day with him.”_

_“Lucy? Nah, he’s great.” Aro returned to his search. “Like… he’s basically me, but old and tone-deaf. We get each other.”_

_Calamity grimaced. No wonder the Count had a bad reputation-- two Aros sounded like hell to deal with. Before Aro could hold up a ruffled pink shirt, she pressed his hand back down, mumbling, “no, it’s too shiny.”_

_“What do you mean it’s too shiny? It’s satin, Callie! It’s supposed to be shiny!”_

_“No shiny clothes. Shininess is reserved for jewelry and fake blood.”_

_“Ughh… I can’t argue with logic like that,” Aro sighed. “Okay, no shiny clothes.” He towed her across the street to scrutinize another stall._

_This was not working. Taking the plunge was the only option. Calamity took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and announced, “Asra misses you, and so do I. We want you to come back and live with us.”_

_Aro’s eyes widened. Had he not noticed how serious Calamity looked, he might have burst out laughing, but he held himself together for her sake. “Callie,” he said patiently, even leaning down to her level, “I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, because you’re my friend and I love you bless your heart: why the fuck do you think I want to go back?”_

_“I know you aren’t over Asra,” she retorted._

_“I-- n-no! That’s not true!”_

_“And I know he isn’t over you either! The two of you should stop beating around the bush and say how you feel! Forget the palace, forget the Count-- because he’s bad news, Aro, Asra told me--”_

_“Asra doesn’t know him like I do,” Aro growled._

_“But--”_

_Aro poked her in the chest. “Did he send you to try to convince me? Was all of this just so he could give me a message?”_

_Calamity sighed and stared at her feet. “He didn’t send me. I really wanted to see you and tell you myself, because… both of you are my friends. I want you to be happy.”_

_Aro softened up at once. He pulled Calamity into a gentle hug, avoiding the parasol. “Do you really think he wants me to come back?” he murmured._

_“He told me so. He’s not himself without you, Aro.” She wiggled out of Aro’s grip and fixed her dress. “That’s why he’s leaving for Nopal in a week. You should talk things out before he runs off, convince him to stay.”_

_Aro pondered her for a moment. (It was easy to tell when he was pondering). “Okay,” he said._

_“Okay?!”_

_“Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to him. You’re right, it’s… it’s dumb of me to just avoid him like this. I miss him, and I miss you, and it’s not fair to hide up in the palace all the time.”_

_A rare genuine smile graced Calamity’s face, prompting Aro to smile right back. “That would be great, Aro! Thank you!”_

_“Aww, anything to get you to smile, you sweet little vampire bat!” Aro pecked her cheek, ignoring her protests and swiftly falling face, and turned his attention back to his hunt. Calamity peered around his arm to watch his process. She was just about to ask when Aro planned on visiting the shop when he seized a black sweater shot through with embroidered red roses. “Ha! What about this!”_

_Calamity scrutinized it. She put her umbrella and bag down. She took it, felt the material, stretched it a little. She even held it up to her torso. Then, at last--_

_“No, it’s not my style.”_

_Aro sighed, snatching it and folding it back up with a resigned pout. “Gods, I hate you sometimes, Callie.”_

_She chuckled and followed him to the next stall._

\--

“You mean… let me see if I understand,” Julian said. “Aro Slattery lived with you, as Asra’s partner, and your friend. When they parted ways, Aro searched for work and found a home at the royal palace as Lucio’s private musician, so Asra made plans to leave Vesuvia, and-- Aro must have stopped him.”

Calamity raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t tell you most of that.”

“Like I said, I’ve been doing my own investigating,” Julian replied proudly. 

“Huh. Yes, you got all that right, except Aro didn’t stop him.”

“He-- he didn’t? But Asra is in Vesuvia now, so… what happened?”

Calamity bowed her head. Julian’s heart fell. In her watery grey eyes, he knew exactly why Asra returned. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but they had a fight,” she explained quietly. “Asra’s got this kind of sixth sense when it comes to Aro-- when it comes to a lot of things… he came back to Vesuvia without any warning. He stopped by the store and when Aro wasn’t there, he ran back out with his weird little compass and… when I saw him next…” Calamity covered her mouth with her hand as she choked back a sob. “H-he said Aro was dead. Buried at the Lazaret, mixed up with a thousand other bodies. And that was it. I h-hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye and-- and Aro was dead!”

Julian hushed her and enfolded her in his arms. For once, she made no attempt to escape. “That sounds dreadful,” he mumbled.

“That’s w-why I came to the palace-- why I volunteered to work down here-- I’m not a fucking doctor like you! I don’t know what I’m doing! I j-just want to help! I don’t want the plague to-- to destroy anybody else!”

“I had no idea, Crow. If I had known, I-- I--” His voice died in his throat. There was nothing he could have done, nothing he could do now, and Calamity sniffled into his shirt. He held her there while his thoughts raced. Perhaps he really had misjudged Aro Slattery. If his death could make Calamity Crow weep, of all people, he must have been something special. 

As usual, Calamity was the first to break the embrace, but it was feebler this time. “You give good hugs,” she hiccupped. “Like-- like your sister. Good genes.”

“Ah, thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice with her.”

“I guess... that’s all. Any questions?” She dried her eyes with the back of her hand. As Julian thought it over, she caught sight of his face, and interrupted whatever thought he was forming. “Dr. Devorak, I didn’t think it was possible you could look any worse. Are you okay?”

Julian sighed. “Oh-- Mr. Morell told me to tell you that I need to get some sleep-- but that’s beside the point, I wanted to ask--”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? You’re pale!”

“Miss Crow, I’m afraid I _always_ look pale.”

She grabbed him by the hand without a second word and began deftly unlocking the door to her office. Julian tried to wiggle his fingers free, but her mind was already made up, and Julian resigned himself to his fate. “Alright, alright, Crow, but would you answer me one thing? Just one thing and I’ll go without a fuss, I promise!”

Calamity escorted him back along the corridor of cell doors. “Depends on how long the answer is.”

“Erm-- alright--! I was wondering-- oh, how do I put this-- you study necromancy, don’t you? That’s the magic that supposedly reanimates the dead? Now, this might sound odd, but are there any rituals that--”

“Too late.” She all but shoved him into his office, so hard that he stumbled over his chair and landed sprawled in bed. “I’m locking you in here. If I come back here in an hour and you aren’t asleep, you’ll wish you had the plague!”

“Mmph hmmmmph!”

“Good!”

Julian didn’t even have the strength to shed his boots. There was no use in fighting it now. Somehow, this time, exhaustion pulled him under its influence, and in a matter of minutes, he was lost to sleep.


	14. laguna dreams

Julian dreamed about Asra, of course. A series of smoke-tinged images flipped one after the other through his dreaming world. He imagined he was back in Asra’s shop, and Asra was asleep on top of him again, peaceful at last. Then he was at the palace, and Asra was paging through Calamity’s black book. When Asra met his gaze, he was whisked away to a mysterious shore of black sand, and Asra was at his feet, digging with his bare hands, as a compass spun helplessly beside him. 

And then he woke up, and forgot all of it.

His pocket watch said that it was almost nightfall. He was about to slump back down when he realized what exactly was waking him up. 

“Doctor! Oh, doctor! I do hope I am not forced to enter your room uninvited!”

He rolled off his cot and opened the door at once. “V-valdemar! I-- sorry, I was asleep!”

Valdemar leered down at him. “I have been sent to tell you that the Countess requests your presence in the rose garden. I suggest you do not keep her waiting.”

“The Countess…? Are you sure?”

“Are you questioning the acuity of my senses?”

“Um-- no, o-of course not, I just--”

They turned and strode back down the hall. “Then hop to it.”

Julian stared blankly after them. Why would Nadia want to see him? He remembered telling her that if she needed a friend to send for him, but he didn’t expect she would actually do it. Or could it be that she needed a medical professional and was too scared to ask Valdemar for assistance?

He spent a few seconds fixing his mussed hair before jogging out of his room to make the ascension to the palace, ignoring the crackling of his joints. Of course that’s what he got for taking time to relax. Of course the Countess requested an audience with him on the day when he was, quoting Martzel, “borderline feverish”. His stomach filled with dread as the elevator pulled him up to the surface.

The library desk where he left his work materials was empty, but Julian couldn’t think who could have cleared it. Even servants didn’t come to the library often enough for them to be responsible.

Perhaps… Asra took them?

_Asra!_

Julian groaned and held his face in his hands as he walked. He was supposed to talk to Asra about last night’s ritual, and he spent the whole day sleeping! If the Countess wasn’t waiting for him, he would have sprinted the whole way to town and apologized to Asra personally. In fact, he just might do that. He would ensure that his visit with Nadia was brief on some harebrained excuse and dash out as soon as possible. 

His destination could be smelled sooner than seen. As soon as he strode out into the cool evening air, the sun having just finished its descent below the horizon, the faint smell of roses wafted toward him, a pleasant change of pace from the stale dungeon air. Laughter chimed on the breeze.

On the ledge of a grand marble fountain sat Nadia and Asra, leaning on each other as they laughed. A bottle sat in the grass beside their feet and judging from the half-empty glasses in their hands it was being put to good use. Faust was wound around one of Nadia’s wrists like a scaly bangle. When Julian approached, the Countess smiled and waved him over. “Julian! Lovely to see you!”

Asra’s eyes widened. He fell into Nadia’s shoulder, hiding his face in her dress as he whined, “I thought you were jokingggg! Nadiii!”

 _Nadi_? How close were these two if he had clearance to call her petnames? Julian gave the Countess a perfunctory bow, but she shook her head. “Please, there’s no need! We are all friends here!” she giggled. “Come, sit, sit!”

“Valdemar said you wanted to see me,” Julian began.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but I’m afraid I was not the one who asked after you,” she replied, shaking Asra gently. “The palace magician and I have been getting acquainted today and he has been fretting after you for far too long now.”

Julian’s heart leapt. “R-really? Asra, I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep last night and I needed to catch up.”

Asra didn’t reply. Nadia shook him again and he made a sound like “mrrrrm”.

“Is he, erm, angry at me?” Julian said.

Nadia grinned. “Oh no, I don’t think so, but he was so anxious, I offered him a drink to calm his nerves, and… ah, I felt bad for him to be the only one drinking. I confess I haven’t had this much fun in a long time!”

Julian knelt down a few feet away in the grass. “Asra,” he tried again, “I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m here now, you see?”

At last, Asra peeked out from his sanctuary. “I wasn’t worried,” he mumbled.

Nadia raised her eyebrows and mouthed “he was”.

“Ah, woe betide the poor doctor,” Julian teased, raising a dramatic hand to his face and closing his eyes, “whose love has forgotten all about him in the course of a single dour day! Alas, alas!”

“Oh, Asra, look at what you’ve reduced the poor man to!” Nadia added.

Asra drained his bubbling golden wine and thrust the empty glass at Julian. “Fill, please,” he slurred.

Nadia rolled her eyes, but Julian took the glass at once and poured more wine into it. “Anything for my dearest,” he said. Instead of giving it back, he took a sip, which made Asra moan and make a distant swipe for it.

“Ilyaaaa!”

“Mm, that’s good,” Julian replied, licking his lips and smirking wickedly at Nadia. “Is this from the Count’s private stores?”

“It is indeed,” Nadia giggled.

“He’s being mean, Nadi,” Asra grumbled. “Punish himmm.”

Nadia heaved a faux sigh. “Oh dear. This is the end of the line for you, Dr. Devorak. Would you care to say your final words before your untimely end?”

“Yes, of course, one moment.” Julian finished the rest of the wine in his glass before announcing, “gods, that’s good!”

The Countess nodded solemnly. “Loquacious. Elegant. Surely a line for the history books.”

“You’re bullying meee,” Asra squealed. 

But Julian was already refilling his glass. “Forgive me, I couldn’t resist,” he said. He handed the glass to Asra, who took it back with a “hmph”. “Are we friends again, my dear?”

Asra’s drunken glare dissipated into tenderness. “Mm-hmm.”

Nadia set her own glass down so she could hold Asra steady while he drank. Faust slithered from her arm to slide under the folds of Asra’s scarf. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked. “I think you have drank enough for one night.”

“Mmmyeah.”

She glanced at Julian. “How far does he live from the royal palace? Is it safe for him to go home tonight?”

Julian bit his lip. “Er, no… no, it’s quite far… even if he took a carriage, he lives alone, so nobody could take care of him...”

“Hmm.” She petted Asra’s back for a few seconds, when a bright smile spread across her face. “The two of you are very close, aren’t you? Would you mind staying with him in the palace tonight?”

As much as excitement welled up inside Julian’s stomach, he hesitated before he agreed, rising from the lawn and extracting Asra from Nadia’s arms. “Up-- up, darling, there you are! Lean on me! Ack!” Julian barely caught Asra before he crumpled to the ground.

“Ilya, carry me!” Asra smirked and kissed Julian’s jaw. “Carry me carry me carry me please!”

“Oh, you’re just so spoiled, aren’t you?” Julian joked, but he lifted Asra with ease, and Asra clung to his neck accordingly like a white-haired sloth. Faust, too, curled around his shoulders, and this time she didn’t squeeze him half to death, which he was grateful for.

Nadia emptied what was left in the glasses into a rose bush and took the bottle before following Julian. “Thank you,” she said.

“Er, my apologies if he was a bit of a handful!”

She smiled and shook her head. “Far from it. I can’t stand Vesuvian etiquette, you know. Today was a wonderful excuse to break tradition with a new friend. Two new friends, perhaps.”

Julian grinned back. “Two new friends.”

“That means more to me than you know. I feel as though I have nobody to talk to sometimes… oh, royal advisors, of course, but… at times, it seems that they never speak to me because they care about what I have to say. I am nothing more than a vessel for authority.” Nadia tried to chuckle. “Ah-- forgive me! The wine is-- ahem. As you said, very good.”

“They’re fools. I care very much about what you have to say, Nadia. In fact--” Julian nudged her side-- “--you should consider a career in theatre! That was some dazzling improv!”

“Haha! Acting comes naturally to politicians!”

Conversation with the Countess flowed so naturally, they might have known each other for years. Julian was shocked when they reached the guest rooms and discovered that time had passed. He and Nadia laid Asra out on the single bed, and before she left, he took her hand in his own and gave it a featherlight kiss. “Tonight was wonderful,” he told her sincerely. “Things will get better, Nadia, I promise. The medical staff is working around the clock for you.”

Her lips curled up at the corners. “I know. Thank you, Julian, I mean it. Will you come find me in the morning and tell me how Asra is feeling?”

“You have my word. Good night.”

She waved goodbye as she walked barefoot down the hall. He closed the door slowly, to keep from waking Asra, but Asra flipped over on the sheets anyway. “Ilya,” he called.

Julian perched on the edge of the bed, unsure if he was allowed to go any farther, and his question was answered when Asra draped his arms around Julian’s shoulders like a scarf, planting open-mouthed kisses up his collar that made Julian shiver. “I like you, Ilya,” Asra whispered.

“O-oh.”

“Is that wrong? I think it’s wrong.”

“It-- no, it--”

“I like yourr… nose.” Asra ran his finger along the bridge of Julian’s nose. “Yeahhh.”

“Thank you,” Julian chortled.

“Do you like giving oral?”

Julian froze. “Uh. What?”

“Oral. Like eating ice cream, except it’s actually pussy. Like--” Julian blushed when Asra pressed the pad of his tongue to Julian’s neck and licked a stripe up his skin. “Yummm. Like that.”

“I-- with the r-right person--!”

Asra slumped all of his weight into Julian’s back. “Am I the right person?” he asked.

Julian watched Faust slither out from Asra’s sleeve (when did she get there) and curl up at the foot up the bed before he replied. “If you aren’t the right person, Asra, I don’t know who is,” he replied.

“Ahhh! I got you I got you!” Asra exploded into a fit of giggles. “You have a crush on me! That’s sooo embarrassing, Ilya!”

“Ohh, my secret has been revealed! What shall I do?” Julian flopped backwards, arms splayed, crushing a squirming Asra under his meager weight.

“Noo get off! Brute!” Asra wiggled out from under him so he could relax into one of the many feather pillows. His eyes closed as he melted into tranquil bliss. 

Julian straightened back up again and undid Asra’s boots. “You mean the world to me,” Julian confessed. “And you-- you might not remember this when you wake up, but in case you do, I want you to know-- erm, because a friend of mine-- a friend of yours, actually, she said that life is short, and you should say what you mean while you still have time.” Julian tugged Asra’s socks off and placed them by the bed with his shoes. “Asra, I know it hasn’t been very long, but I-- I want a life with you. I want to be your partner. I want to, to take care of you, and--”

He stopped. Asra’s breathing had slowed to a crawl and he was utterly still. 

“-- and you’re asleep. Right.” He brushed his lips to Asra’s cheek before he started getting ready for bed too.


	15. dedicated to the one i love

Julian was awoken with a violent shake. He blinked himself awake. “-- last night? Ilya! Ilya!”

“Whuh--?”

Asra Alnazar was inches from his face, sweaty and sickly and frantic. “I said did we do anything last night? I d-don’t remember! Tell me! You’ve got to tell me!”

“Did we…? Oh! No, no!” Julian soothed him with a tired hand through his curls. “I brought you up here and we,” he yawned, “-- we fell asleep, that’s all. There’s only one bed, so I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Asra fell onto Julian’s chest with a sigh of relief. “I feel awful,” he mumbled.

“Nadia said you drank too much to go home alone.”

“Urgh… yes, and I made a fool of myself in front of her… I ought to be put to death...” 

Julian gave him a gentle jostle, and he rolled off accordingly. “Let’s find you some breakfast, darling. Something nice and greasy will work wonders for your stomach. Yes? How does that sound?”

Asra grunted something into the mattress below.

Smiling, Julian wrapped him up, kissing the nape of his neck. “You look sublime in the morning sun,” he crooned.

“Nnn… sun’s so bright… hurts my eyes...”

“I know, dearest. Don’t you lift a finger. I’ll take care of everything.”

“You don’ have to…”

Julian positioned his own pillow over Asra’s head to block out the light and gave his neck another lingering kiss before climbing out of bed. As he dressed, he got a good look at the guest room and adjoining bathroom for the first time. The Count and Countess really knew how to treat their visitors. Despite it being decorated in the bare necessities for comfort, every detail down to the clawed feet of the bathtub was nothing short of luxurious. A grand window let beams of sunlight in, illuminating a less-than-happy Asra, so Julian closed the curtains. 

“What about Faust?” Julian thought out loud.

“Mm?”

Faust, who was still sleeping until she heard her name, lifted her head, and Julian gave her a cautious scritch under the chin. “Yes, what does she eat? Something the servants can bring in without having to kill first, I mean.”

Asra actually freed his head from his pillow protection to stare at Julian as though he were some alien being. After a few incredulous seconds, he replied, “she likes raw chicken.”

“I’ll make sure it happens. Anything for our little lady, isn’t that right?”

Faust flicked her tongue out at him, which he took as a good sign. He was halfway out the door when Asra stopped him. “Ilya?”

“Er-- yes?”

Asra sat up. Despite his disheveled hair and wooziness, he managed a genuine smile. “Good morning,” he chirped.

Julian couldn’t resist diving back to bed to give him a kiss, wincing at the hellish morning breath. “Good morning,” he echoed. “Take your time. I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t be long, or I’ll start missing you.”

“Oh, my angel, I wouldn’t dream of making you wait.” As much as Julian wanted to stay, he had an appointment to keep with Nadia, so he extracted himself from his love and strode out into the hall. 

He waved down the first passing servant he saw and relayed Asra’s breakfast orders to them. (They were a little concerned at the raw chicken, but thankfully said nothing). When he asked where the Countess was, he was bemused to learn that she was in the Count’s bedroom. Of course they were married, but last Julian checked, they couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Something must be wrong for her to be in his room first thing in the morning.

So off he went. As he approached Lucio’s bedroom, he heard heated voices, and tried his best to block them out. When he knocked on the door, they both fell silent. “Come in!” Nadia called.

He opened the door more carefully than usual. Luckily, husband and wife were far away from each other, Nadia sitting a few feet from Lucio’s bed. Both their faces lit up at the sight of the doctor at the threshold. “Jules! Come to visit me?” Lucio exclaimed.

“Er-- yes,” Julian lied. “And-- Nadia. Countess. Milady.”

She stifled a smile behind her hand. “Dr. Devorak.”

“While I’ve got you here, I should tell you that your, ah… friend… is doing well.”

“Is he? Wonderful!” Nadia rose from her seat as though she had been waiting for an excuse to leave for hours. “You don’t mind entertaining my husband while I check on him, do you?”

Lucio squinted at them. “What friend?”

Julian opened his mouth to make up a half-baked excuse, but Nadia got there first. “The Duke of Avistile came here on business last night and his carriage fell apart. He had to borrow a guest room.”

Maybe Nadia really should pursue a career in improv. Lucio bought it hook line and sinker and they didn’t even say goodbye to each other as she exited the bedroom. “Nice of you to stop by,” Lucio remarked. “Seems like ages since we’ve talked without you having to take my temperature… and, er, about that…” Lucio scratched the back of his neck. His golden arm laid on his bedside table and Julian could sense his discomfort without it. “Last time… we didn’t leave things all that great, did we?”

Julian sucked in a breath. “N-no. We didn’t.”

“Well… I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Julian raised his eyebrows and approached the bed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before.”

“I’m not gonna say it again,” Lucio snapped, but his cheeks were as red as his eyes. “I know I fucked up, no need to rub it in!”

“I’m not, I’m just surprised. And,” Julian added, patting Lucio’s knee, “I accept your apology.”

A hesitant smile broke Lucio’s fevered face. “Good. Good! I knew you would! I mean-- I’d hate to lose you over my own damn libido.”

Julian sat down on the bed across from him with a laugh. “Your libido _is_ infamous!”

“Fuck, I dunno what came over me. I guess I felt-- ha, well, doesn’t matter.” Lucio propped himself higher on his pillows. Now that the apology was off his chest, he was back to his sneering toothy self. “You didn’t really fuck that magician, did you? You were kidding?”

“Ahh…”

Lucio’s face fell. “You… _were_ kidding, right?”

“Erm… yes and no…”

“It’s a pretty straightforward question, Jules!” Lucio snarled.

Julian ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I mean, we… I didn’t fuck him, he sort of… I went to his apartment, and we…”

Lucio leaned forward. “Lemme put it in a way you can’t weasel out of: did he make you cum on purpose?”

While vulgar, that was a surprisingly concise definition. Julian nodded meekly.

They stared at each other for at least ten excruciating seconds. For such an expressive man, Lucio was as unreadable and still as a hawk eyeing its prey. “Know why I got so mean with you?” Lucio said quietly. “Do you? You’re a smart guy.”

Julian tried to formulate an answer, but all thoughts flew out the window when Lucio’s cold fingers trailed down his cheek, gradual enough to savor the feeling of his skin. His eyes fluttered closed of their own accord.

“I hate being patient,” Lucio whispered. “I hate waiting. And I hate it when there’s something I want right in front of my nose that I can’t take.” Lucio shifted, and Julian could feel his breath on his cheek, smell musk and perfume. “You know what I mean, don’t you, Jules?”

Julian gulped. “I think-- y-yes, I do,” he stammered.

Lucio’s thumb traced Julian’s bottom lip. The slight plague tremor in every movement sent pangs through Julian’s heart. “And I’m so, so lonely… you don’t know what it’s like… everyone looking at you like you’re a rabid dog, like they want to put you out of your misery, they just don’t have the guts… even Val doesn’t come around anymore, he’s scared…”

Julian forced his eyes open. Lucio grinned at the sight. “I could give you the biggest promotion, you know. Bigger than your wildest dreams. After this whole plague business is over, you’d have the money to open a clinic of your own.”

“Are you saying-- y-you want me to-- to--”

“Come on, think of it! I’d hook you up with your own suite, a bunch of servants… when you aren’t with me, obviously. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Julian imagined the guest room, and then his shoebox of a living space in the dungeon. “It does,” he admitted.

Lucio nuzzled his forehead against Julian’s. “I’ll do things right this time,” he cooed. “I’ll be careful. Seriously, I promise. I’ll treat you like a prince if you say you’ll be mine.”

“Lucio, that sounds-- it all sounds amazing, really, but--”

“Can I kiss you?”

Julian’s heart wrenched, but he pushed Lucio’s hand away and muttered, “no, I’m sorry, I-- I can’t, Lu. I can’t get your hopes up.”

“Is this all really for Asra Alnazar?” Lucio asked. He wasn’t ferocious-- no, he was… defeated. He wouldn’t meet Julian’s eyes. “Does he feel the same way about you?”

“I, eh, I’m not sure. I want him, I know, but I don’t know… it’s hard to tell with him…”

Lucio forced a smile onto his face. “He’s a fucking idiot if he throws you away. Tell him that from me. I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you, that’s a promise.”

“Lu--”

“You’ve got work, right? I wouldn’t wanna-- ha, wanna keep you.”

Julian almost stopped him from sinking back into his pillows but stopped himself at the last second. He could recall so many years ago when Lucio’s mercenary troupe was soundly clobbered by their targets, and despite Julian having to tend at least four arrow wounds in Lucio’s torso, that madman kept on smiling, boasting that his loss was a fluke and he would get them next time. Now, though? He had never seen Lucio so hopeless. “I’ll keep visiting,” he promised. “I’m still your doctor no matter what, and-- and your friend too.”

“Go on, Jules, I’m fine, don’t get all mother hen on me.” Lucio halfheartedly shooed him away.

Julian stood up. “If you ever want to talk--”

“Yeah, yeah. I know where to find you.”

“Erm, right. Until next time.”

Lucio wouldn’t meet his eyes as he backed out of the room. When the door snapped closed, Julian thought he heard a muffled sob, but it might have been wistful imagination.


	16. paper mache world

When Julian arrived at the guest suite again, Nadia had already left, and Asra was sitting up in bed across from a massive tray of breakfast. Faust lounged in his lap, eating small cubes of chicken from his fingers. “Sit, Ilya,” he said.

“Ah-- you haven’t started yet?”

“I was waiting for you.” Asra patted the mattress on the other side of the tray. “Nadi told me to tell you that she had some business to take care of and she’s sorry she left you alone with Lucio. Apparently, he’s more insufferable than usual today and she thought you might have more luck cheering him up.”

“O-oh. It was no problem.” Julian suppressed his delight that Asra waited to eat with him, not wanting to seem eager, and sat obediently down where Asra directed.

Faust unwound herself from Asra’s lap so she could make Julian’s knee her home. He gave her a friendly pat and she responded with a squeeze that might very well cut off his circulation. Asra, though disgruntled at being abandoned, poured Julian a cup of tea. “I wasn’t worried,” he remarked as he handed the cup over.

Julian blinked. “Um, pardon?”

“I wasn’t worried. When you were gone yesterday, I mean. I don’t want you to get any ideas about-- us. Me. Us.”

“Then why were you drinking with Nadia?”

Asra took a sip of tea. The tips of his ears turned red.

Taking pity on him, Julian started slathering jam on a piece of toast. “Calamity Crow locked me in my office to get some sleep, bless her heart,” he explained. “Couldn’t get a wink after the ritual, you see. I was a ship short of a wreck.”

“Ah… are you feeling better today?”

“Far better. A good night’s sleep-- and a good day’s sleep too, I suppose-- will do wonders for the human body, even more than a hot meal or a bottle of multivitamins.”

Asra coaxed Faust back to his lap with a slice of chicken. He addressed her instead of Julian when he said, “Ilya, you should know that I haven’t been myself lately. I know that now. Ever since-- er, since the plague, I… I don’t like who I am anymore.”

 _Since Aro Slattery._ “You can change, Asra. I know you can.”

“I can’t, not if I want--” Asra hung his head and groaned. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense… I don’t even know what I’m trying to tell you...”

Julian took a chance and placed his fingers on Asra’s knee. Asra made no effort to move away. “I’ll help you,” Julian told him gently.

“With what?”

“Whatever you’ll allow me to help you with. I would spill my own blood for you.”

All of a sudden, Asra glared, practically spitting out his next words. “You should hate me! I was awful to you and I won’t stop being awful to you! This is my war, you understand? I can’t drag people that I care about into the mess that I made!”

Julian flinched, but he couldn’t stop himself from murmuring, “do you... really care about me?”

“I-- Ilya, I--” Asra buried his face in his hands. A faint tremor rippled through his body. “That isn’t what… I don’t…”

“Darling, may I hold you?”

Asra whimpered into his palms and tensed even more. “Don’t call me that. Don’t make me-- _feel_. I don’t want to feel a-anything anymore.”

Julian shifted around the breakfast tray so he could wrap a tentative arm around Asra’s shoulders. He smiled when Asra melted into his embrace at once, entwining arms and legs with his, refusing to meet his gaze but pressing ever closer. “Is this about the ritual?” Julian asked into Asra’s perfect hair. “Are you going to try again?”

“Y-es…”

“Do you need my help?”

Asra’s fingers tightened their grip. “Yes.”

“Then of course I’ll--”

“But it might be worse than last time,” Asra interrupted. “You could get hurt. No, you will get hurt. According to the books I’ve found in the royal library, the only other possibility I see is using fresh blood as a catalyst for conjuration, and I can’t use a needle to extract it, or else--”

“Asra, did you forget my middle name?”

He could feel Asra’s brief smile against his neck. “Heh… Ilya, really, I’m serious, I don’t want to hurt you… not just physically, but mentally. I can’t return your feelings, not in the same way. No matter how careful I am, you’ll get hurt, I know it! I couldn’t live with myself if-- if you--”

Julian kissed Asra’s forehead to calm him. The shooting pains in his heart were dulled by the taste of Asra’s skin. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“But--”

“I was made to be broken, dearest, of that I am convinced. I’m basically a take-apart puppet made of string and driftwood. Besides, as a doctor, I’m legally required to memorize the limits of the human body. Even tested them myself.” A steady pink spread over his cheeks. “What I suppose I’m saying… I’m afraid I, ah, suffer from an incurable attraction to what I know can hurt me. You couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to.”

Asra pondered his words for a moment. “You... really want this,” he concluded incredulously. “Me. You don’t care that I can’t give you what you give me, you just… you want me that badly.”

Julian shook his head. “I’ll take what I can get. Things can change, can’t they? I consider it a lucky thing that I got this far.”

“I guess…”

“I believe in constant change. I’ll wait as long as I need to, for you, dearest. Anything for you.”

They considered each other. Asra paused, then reached behind for Julian’s unfinished toast, so he could hold it up. “I’ve never seen you eat before,” Asra said. “Is that why you’re so skinny? Do you survive off dungeon mildew and occasional photosynthesis?”

Julian chuckled. “Whoops, you got me!”

“Let’s transform you back into a man! Say ‘ah’!”

Never in Julian’s wildest dreams did he even contemplate the possibility of a domestic breakfast with Asra Alnazar, yet here he sat, being fed lukewarm toast dripping with peach preserves, admiring Asra’s laughing face illuminated in the morning sun. He was so full of wonder, and yet...

There was a tiny hole in his heart. No matter how much happiness poured in, it leaked out slowly but surely, as though through a sieve. Nothing could ever be as peaceful as this moment. He had no right to be unsatisfied. He was crawling through an endless desert, chasing dazzling mirages that never quenched his insatiable thirst. 

Asra could change, Julian reasoned… he could change his mind… he would inevitably forget Aro Slattery over time, because Aro was dead, and he wasn’t coming back, no matter how the living pined for him… and Julian would be there, waiting patiently as ever, to adore and worship Asra when he returned from his personal war…

… so until then, Julian savored the sweetness of peaches and Asra’s chaste kisses at the corners of his mouth.


	17. witch love

They planned to continue research immediately. Asra said that it should only be a few weeks before a second attempt would be ready to perform, and until then, Julian promised to stand by for any potential help he might be. (“You’d do better to search for a plague cure,” Asra told him, but he just shook his head, citing that “all doctors can multitask”). When the tray of food was picked clean, they made their way back to the library. 

“Thank you for holding onto my notes, by the way,” Julian said as they entered.

Asra frowned at him. “Your… notes? What notes?”

Julian approached his desk and patted the wood. “I brought them up here yesterday morning, and when I came back that evening, they were gone. Servants don’t come in here very often, so I assumed--”

“I didn’t take them,” Asra interrupted with a frown. “Were they important?”

Julian’s heart sank. He paged through his notebooks within the room of his mind, of his diagrams of blood cells, of at least a hundred hours of research about bloodborne diseases, his notes of the behavior of dying patients, and he ran his hands through his hair, only coming back to earth when Asra kissed him home. “We’ll find them, and if not, I’ll help you catch up,” Asra assured him.

“They-- they can’t be replicated,” Julian croaked.

“Surely at least some of it--”

“No, you don’t under-understand… I recorded dying words in those pages… I was the final comfort to some of the patients, as I, as I observed them, and I-- I had to write everything down! As they-- as the plague--” 

Asra kissed him again and stroked his back. “I’m sorry, I… didn’t know. We’ll find them, I promise. I’ll tell Nadi the next time I see her, and she’ll pass the word to the palace staff. Okay?”

“O-okay.” Julian took a deep breath, relaxing at last. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Why don’t you go look in the dungeons? It’s possible that Callie took them down for you. I would help, but I don’t have clearance, and, well… I have a weak stomach.”

Julian smiled. If he ever called Calamity Crow by a nickname like that, she’d have his head on a platter. “Right. It’s… it’s possible. Ah, but the ritual! I don’t want to leave--”

“I already have a research assistant, Ilya. We will get along just fine without you.” Asra tickled his sleeve so that Fausts’ head slid free. She yawned.

“Prahaha, I nearly forgot! Good luck, Asra-- and you too, little lady. I’ll be back soon.” Julian stooped down so he could kiss Faust’s head before striding around the shelves to the secret passage.

But without Asra’s comforting touch, panic was setting in once again. If Calamity didn’t take his notes, who did? Who in their right mind would steal a bag full of basic medical supplies and ratty ink-spattered notebooks? 

His first thought was Valdemar, but that didn’t make sense. Valdemar may be his supervisor, they were less concerned with finding the cure than operating and experimenting, so Julian’s theories would be of no help to them. 

Next up was Martzel. He hadn’t ended their last encounter very well, so perhaps Martzel wanted to get back at him… but that didn’t make sense either, considering how genuinely kind Martzel seemed and how much help he had been. 

It could have been a servant. Maybe they really were in the library cleaning up, saw the bag, and threw it in a lost-and-found. Yes, that must be it!

Julian rounded the corner and marched into his office. He almost did a double-take when his gaze fell upon the familiar black bag on his desk, and he reached for it at once when--

_Click._

He froze as the door lock clicked behind his back. Air fled his lungs all at once. “It took you long enough,” Asra remarked.

He turned around slowly, painfully. Asra leaned against the door handle with a playful grin. “How-- how are you-- here?” Julian croaked.

“You’re only asking me that now? Really, Ilya. This isn’t the first time I’ve broken into your office.”

Julian’s mouth fell open. “After-- yes, after we kissed-- and I came back, and you-- but--” He extended his hand and brushed Asra’s cheek, shivering at the warmth. “I thought you were a dream. I thought-- but you’re real--? You’ve always been real?”

Asra tugged his glove off and purred into his palm, nuzzling like a housecat. “Oh, very real indeed.”

“But… upstairs. You were upstairs with me-- why did you want me down here? Did you follow me? Did you-- did you--” 

“Hm?”

All of a sudden, a light flicked on. Julian’s eyes widened. He jerked his hand away from Asra’s grip. “You aren’t Asra,” he said, comprehension dawning. “You’re-- you’re hoodwinking me!”

Asra batted his eyelashes. “I wouldn’t say that. Who’s to say I’m not the real Asra if you can’t tell the difference?”

Julian staggered backward as Asra advanced, stopping when the backs of his knees hit the bed, when Asra’s fingers ghosted along his jaw. “What do you want with me?” Julian squeaked.

“We can do a taste test, if you want. If I’m not the real Asra, surely my kiss won’t be as sweet.” Asra beamed and ran his finger over Julian’s lips. “Or are you scared that you’ll prefer my kiss to his? Oh, what an enticing conundrum… isn’t it, my darling devotee?”

Words refused to form in Julian’s mouth. His throat was dry, yet he salivated at the possibility that this Asra may take what he wanted. 

He was disappointed. Asra backed away with a chuckle. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t want to keep you all to myself-- not without Asra’s permission first. Maybe I’ll bring it up the next time he seeks me out.”

“Who-- a-are you? Why don’t you j-just show yourself?”

Asra raised his eyebrows. “Do not take me for a coward, Ilya. The point of my disguise is to comfort you, not me.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means,” Asra teased, poking his forehead, “you’re a small-minded little man, and anything that doesn’t fit into the boxes you see the world through, you dismiss. I did not come here to be dismissed.”

Julian sank onto his bed. His head was swimming in confusion. “W-what should I… what should I call you?”

Asra contemplated him from above. The more Julian watched him, the more he knew this must not be the real Asra. His likeness was uncanny, down to the smell of his tropical shampoo, but his mannerisms were all wrong. This Asra could not sit still. He buzzed with excited energy that curled his lips into eternal smugness. Although Julian had seen that same mischievous glint in his violet eyes before, it was pronounced tenfold in this Asra, as though it was an eternal torch sparking behind the stained glass of his irises. Asra’s grin broadened as the silence stretched. “You’re staring at me,” he noted.

Julian flushed crimson. “You’re beautiful.”

“Then that’s what you shall call me.”

“I-- er, that’s not w-what I--”

“I’m not here to talk about me or you,” Asra continued. “Well-- no, that isn’t quite true. I’m disappointed in you, Ilya.”

Julian blinked. He swallowed a “what the fuck” down and instead muttered, “sssorry.”

“I certainly hope you are. You have been given not one but two warnings now to keep from encouraging Asra’s destructive behavior, and yet here you are, having already participated in a forbidden ritual and given your body freely to someone who does not care whether you live or die.”

Julian’s fists clenched. “That’s not true,” he barked. “I know Asra doesn’t love me, but he doesn’t want me to die!”

Asra examined his own fingernails as he let out a sigh. “Of course he doesn’t wish death upon you, he would never go to such lengths… but if it were to benefit his own goal, he certainly would not stop it… you see what I mean?”

“You’re lying,” Julian snarled.

“Am I?” Asra met his glare with a sneer. “Do you think I went to all this trouble simply to riddle your life with chaos? Do you think so highly of yourself, my precious Dr. Devorak?”

Ouch. Julian shrank back. “Good point,” he mumbled.

“I am, aren’t I? Are you finished griping or shall I come back later?”

“No, I’m… I’m done.”

“Good. Listen very carefully to me. I care about Asra’s well-being, and by extension, yours. Both of you do not deserve the pain that this plague has brought. I implore you not to create more pain in order to find a temporary relief. Now is not the time or place to chase a beast that does not want to be trapped, Ilya, and if you do not realize this, you will not only harm yourself, but the very person you want to protect.”

Asra let the words settle while Julian fumbled for a response. The doctor shook his head, suddenly feeling very tired. “You know him?” he asked.

Asra smiled. “Better than most.”

“Then why haven’t you told him all this if you’re so worried? Why go through me?”

“He has pushed me away as of late. I told him that I don’t approve of his new… fixations. He did not take kindly to my criticism.”

Fixations. The rituals. “What’s wrong with the rituals?” Julian said. “What’s he trying to accomplish?”

“I… promised I would not reveal his intentions to anyone.”

Julian frowned. “Well, that’s rather convenient.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Julian rose from the bed. The extra height over Asra gave him a rush of confidence. “If you really knew him so well, you’d let him be happy! Do you know how hard he’s working? He needs someone like me! He-- he’s all alone! Would you rather he suffer all by himself?”

Asra held his gaze coldly. “And you know all about suffering, is that it?”

“Yes, I do! So what if he doesn’t love me? Love isn’t conditional! Love has to be one-sided sometimes! Whatever the hell you are, you must realize this!”

“Are you equating love to your obsession?”

Julian growled and snapped his other glove off so he could throw it to the ground in frustration. “Unless he tells me himself that he wants to go it alone, I’ll be there for him,” he retorted. “I’ve braved worse storms. Take your selfish warnings and give them to someone who wants them, and leave me the fuck alone!”

Instead of blowing up like he was hoping, Asra just slumped back into the desk. “Alright, Ilya,” he murmured. “Alright. I will.”

“G-good!”

“I wish you luck with your cure. If you need me, seek me out. I will not come to you again.”

“I wouldn’t want you to!”

A smile flitted across Asra’s lips. “Would you like a kiss before I go? Who’s to say Asra will be receptive as I?”

Julian flinched. It wasn’t cheating… he and Asra weren’t even in a relationship… and it wasn’t cheating if he was kissing someone who was Asra’s near-perfect doppelganger… 

Asra must have known what he was thinking because he stood up on his tiptoes and tempted Julian closer with the heat of his breath. “Can you really tell the difference, my foolish bent-neck raven?” Asra crooned.

Julian examined his face. He combed through Asra’s silken hair. He watched how Asra’s eyelashes fluttered when he drew close. “No, I can’t,” he whispered.

“I thought not.”

“But... I won’t kiss you.”

“What a fascinating thing you are. Goodbye, Ilya.”

And then Julian blinked, and Asra was gone.


	18. grand romantic life

Julian didn’t tell Asra what happened in the dungeon. How could he? How could he explain that a shapeshifting entity told him to break up with Asra over rituals that Julian still did not understand? He mumbled something about “must’ve left it on my desk” and left it at that. 

And so began a period of relative peace. Relative, in the sense that nothing was untroubled in these turbulent times of unchecked disease, and peace, in the sense that Julian found a simple routine to be the most pleasant way to live. 

Routine had never been Julian’s style no matter how much he longed for it. After all, going off to seek his fortune in the medical profession by hopping on the next merchant ship out of port wasn’t very orthodox, and the subsequent kidnappings from pirate crew to pirate crew (while informative) didn’t help either. He was accustomed to being tossed from place to place, person to person. All this to say, the fact that he could enjoy the pleasures of simple domesticity with Asra Alnazar was nothing short of bliss.

In the morning, he would wake, wash up, and head to the library. Asra took to stopping by the kitchens on his way to work and shared the spoils of his thievery with Julian. After breakfast was studying, punctuated by Julian’s mostly unanswered ramblings out loud and Asra’s occasional (if off-putting) questions. (Once, Asra asked Julian about blood types, and inadvertently stumbled into an ecstatic ten-minute lecture). 

A few days in, during a silent period when Julian scratched feverishly away at a drawing of a platelet, Martzel Morell made an appearance, placing a gentle hand on Julian’s shoulder and making him jump out of his seat. “Ah-- beg your pardon!” Martzel chuckled. “I was dropping by for some blueprints, and wanted to say good morning.”

Julian’s face lit up like a scarlet beacon. He hadn’t forgotten about how he had left things with Martzel, and, despite his polite smile, Martzel hadn’t forgotten either. The effect was not lost on Asra, who glanced up from his book in the corner to watch. “Mr. Morell, I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said.

“Oh, doctor, really--”

“I mean it. The last time we talked-- I was in the wrong. I-- I feel dreadful about it, and if you could find it in your heart to ever forgive me, I would be--”

Martzel clasped Julian’s hand in both his own. “I know. I’m not angry. You weren’t in your right mind, and nobody can fault you for that.” He brushed his lips against Julian’s knuckles, and the doctor blushed even harder.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

From the corner of the room, Asra cleared his throat to announce his presence. “This is a surprise, Mr. Morell,” he said.

Martzel’s eyes widened. His kind smile flickered, but he recovered quickly, released Julian, and backed a few steps away, golden earrings flashing in the rising sun. “Mx. Alnazar! I knew you were employed at the palace, but I have not had the pleasure of seeing you!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah-- it’s a bit of a funny story! Nadia-- the Countess, I mean-- I broke into the library a few weeks ago when the quarantine was too much to bear, and when I was reprimanded, she helped to pay my bail. She said the library ought to be public anyway, ha! Now I have full clearance and brunch with her every wednesday!” Martzel chuckled and even Julian cracked a smile, but Asra remained stony. “Ahem. Anyway. What are you studying?”

Asra unfurled from his corner and prowled to Julian’s desk, sliding into his lap without warning and wrapping a protective arm around his neck. “Those earrings are very pretty,” he remarked coolly. “Where did you find them?”

Now it was Martzel’s turn to flush red. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I… have to go,” he muttered. “It was nice to see you.”

And before Julian could stop him, he was speeding back out of the library without a goodbye. “Asra!” Julian reproached.

“What?”

“What was that about? Mr. Morell was just stopping by to say hello!”

Asra stroked down Julian’s cheek and gave him a languid kiss on the lips. When Julian moaned, Asra’s tongue slipped past his teeth and licked softly at the roof of his mouth, until neither of them had the breath, and breathed against each others’ lips. “Don’t trust him,” Asra whispered.

“W-why?”

“He’s a rake. He boozes himself up and sleeps around to tear couples apart in his free time. Trust me, Ilya, you don’t want to tangle with him.”

Julian was about to ask how Asra knew that when another tender kiss swallowed his words whole. That was the end of it.

Apart from that interruption, research continued at a steady pace. Julian had discovered a strange carnivorous beetle in his office that piqued his interest, so he switched his attention from studying bloodborne plagues to insect-borne ones, which was far out of his field of expertise and took still more of his concentration. 

When the studying was over, usually as the sun was just beginning its descent, Asra would pull Julian away from his work no matter how hard he protested and lead him to the kitchens for a meal before they went their separate ways.

After about a week of this, however, over bowls of tomato soup shared on one of the grand balconies, Asra brought up an interesting point. The weather was beginning to cool for the first time all season and the soup was a perfect way to herald it. “I never see you leave the palace,” he said. “Why is that? Don’t you have a home?”

Julian set his soup in his lap. “I do-- two, technically, but-- oh, it sounds foolish. If I slept anywhere but the palace, I’d feel terribly guilty. The commute takes time, you know? Valuable time that could be spent helping people.”

“But that isn’t fair,” Asra replied.

“Er-- no?”

“No! Callie told me that almost all of the doctors go home every night! You don’t deserve to sleep down there with-- with all that death and decay!” Asra shuddered and put his bowl aside so he could cover Julian’s knee with his hand. “Why don’t you give yourself this one comfort, Ilya?”

Julian sighed. As much as he was supposed to feel guilty, his spirits lifted at the thought that Asra cared about him enough to tell him this, that he deserved more. “My apartment is too far to walk every day,” he mumbled.

“What about your other home?”

“Mazelinka’s place? I couldn’t, I… she’s done so much for me already, I couldn’t just take up space…”

Asra took his hand with a smile. “Is that the woman who raised you, the one you told me about? I’m sure she would be more than happy to see you! You don’t have to move there, but you ought to take advantage of the fact that you have a safe place to go. Ask her the next time you’re in town.”

Julian swallowed and squeezed Asra’s fingers. “Asra, would you… come with me?”

“Why?”

“She’d love to meet you. She’s always, um, telling me that I need to make friends.”

Now it was Asra’s turn to hesitate. Julian thought for a second he might have crossed a line, but Asra nodded and replied, “okay, I’ll come with you. Tonight.”

“R-really?” Julian yelped.

“Really. Anything to get you to relax.” Asra poked Julian’s cheek playfully and released him to finish his soup.

To Julian’s bemused delight, Asra really did accompany him to Mazelinka’s house. Mazelinka was thrilled to meet Asra and insisted on feeding both of them a second dinner. (Asra chatted with her over stew for at least an hour about what Julian assumed were herbs and seasonings). 

He didn’t even think to ask Asra if he wanted to do anything more than sleep. It might be awkward anyway, considering that this wasn’t even their bed, but he was all but enraptured when Asra stripped down to his underwear and cuddled into Julian’s back, warm and velvety. And Asra… he seemed to fit perfectly. Not just in Julian’s arms, as they fell asleep entwined in each other's limbs, but in Mazelinka’s home, in Julian’s family, in his heart.

It was the most natural thing in the world. Julian promised to come back to Mazelinka’s house twice a week, on the condition that Asra would come at least one of those times, and Asra readily agreed. 

So it went. Shared meals, working in the library, spending the occasional night in the same bed… Julian was convinced he had succumbed to the plague and entered a brand new heavenly world after his premature death. 

Even his odd encounter with the shapeshifter slipped from his mind as time wore on. Calamity commented that he was finally putting weight on his rail-thin body. For the first time, the chiding from Valdemar and Lucio wasn’t enough to throw a damper on his good mood. Sure, Martzel wasn’t coming around to the library anymore, but Nadia came in his stead, and she was just as fine company. Nobody commented on Martzel’s absence. He was still a sore subject with Asra and Nadia knew to leave it alone. 

Weeks turned into a month, then two. Fall was setting in and days grew shorter and shorter. Asra had grown tenser lately. He would disappear for hours at a time, to wander the gardens and watch the bending branches of a grand weeping willow, then come back distant and sleepy. If a walk didn’t work he resorted to climbing into Julian’s lap, where Julian would run reverent fingers through his hair and kiss his face until he grumbled something along the lines of “I’m so close this time” and trundled back to his corner to take a nap. This became such a habit that Julian took to bringing his overcoat to the library every morning in order to blanket Asra during his afternoon break. 

Then one day, without preamble, Asra put his book down, sat up straighter, and declared, “tonight.”

Julian glanced up from his notes. “Er-- what’s tonight?”

“The ritual. I’m doing it tonight.”

“That’s wonderful! When shall I--”

“Alone.”

Julian’s face fell. He put his quill down. “You said you would let me help you, darling. It’s too much for you to handle on your own.”

Asra heaved a sigh. “That may be so… but it’s also too much for _you_ to handle.” Before Julian could even open his mouth to interject, Asra continued. “You remember how last time turned out. I can’t let you go through that again.”

“Asra, we’ve talked about this!”

“And I’m changing my mind!” Asra snapped.

Julian rose from his desk and approached Asra’s reading corner (now lined with pillows, courtesy of Nadia) but Asra stood up too and began hurriedly stuffing books and notes in his satchel. Faust lifted her head from her coils to check the commotion. “You told me that blood is the key,” Julian pressed.

“Yes.”

“Well, I have plenty of extra blood, don’t I? And I can always make more!”

“Ilya!” Asra barked. The sudden ferocity in his voice made Julian cower. “I am not cutting you open like you’re a piece of meat! This is _my_ burden to bear!”

Julian made an attempt to take him in his arms, but Asra ducked around him, scooping Faust up in the process. “I can’t let you do this alone!” Julian whimpered. 

“You must!”

“Asra, think about this, really think about this, please! I know how you feel! I’ve been in your position, and I-- I’ve pushed people away who were trying to help me--”

“This is different,” Asra interrupted. “You push people away because you have grand delusions of helplessness and deservingness. This ritual is _designed to harm its participants_. I’m grateful for all your help, really, but it would be selfish of me to ask you to give so much of yourself for my needs. Now, I need to go home to prepare. Move out of my way.”

Under the harsh glint of Asra’s eyes, jagged and ruthless as diamonds, Julian quailed, and allowed him to sweep past, Faust diving into his satchel to hide. He was almost out the door when Julian plucked up the courage to call, “if you aren’t here tomorrow morning, I-- I’m coming to check on you. No matter what you say.”

Asra paused. His shoulders relaxed and his head bowed. “Have a good night, Ilya.”

“O-okay. Good luck.”

The magician vanished through the doors with a flash of his coat.


	19. best interests

For a few seconds, Julian just stood, still as a great gangly statue, watching the spot where Asra vanished, like he might show up if he scrutinized long enough. 

He knew exactly why Asra was doing this.

Julian had pushed Portia away countless times before because he wanted to keep her from harm. She always insisted that she didn’t care, that she would rather get hurt helping him than sit at home inactive, but only now did he understand what she meant. This was a special breed of agony. 

There were two options. One, he could do as he was told, sit in his office, hoping beyond hope that Asra wasn’t suffering. Two, he could follow Asra and endure whatever wrath befell him for his impudence.

It was torture either way! The last thing he wanted was to go against Asra’s wishes, but Asra should have known that leaving Julian with his own spiralling thoughts was a deadly game. If he did disobey… if he did go to Asra’s shop and interrupt the ritual… how bad could the fallout be? Would Asra never talk to him again? 

In a trance, he stumbled to the secret passage. There was only one person he could think of who could answer his questions. 

He hadn’t seen much of Calamity Crow. If she ever resurfaced from the dungeon, it was to travel hastily through the palace to her final destination, so even if she passed through the library, she didn’t greet Julian on her way. However, now that he was thinking about it, he hadn’t seen her in the dungeons either. She was still technically his assistant but he couldn’t remember the last time she actually handed him a daily update on their patients. 

When he reached the dungeon, he found her office empty. The furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust except for her desk, which was home to a host of notes, diagrams, and-- Julian shivered-- that black leatherbound tome from the library, opened to a familiar swirling design that he had only seen in Asra’s shop. He backed out of the office and asked a passing nurse about her, who gave him a suspicious squint. “You don’t know?” they said. “You’re Dr. Devorak, aren’t you? You used to be her supervisor?”

He puffed out his chest. “I-- I _am_ her supervisor!”

They shrugged. “Okay. I guess I thought Valdemar transferred her. She’s probably back in the specimen room with them.”

A chill settled across Julian’s shoulders. He couldn’t gather the air to thank the nurse so he strode past them. Calamity might be creepy, but she wouldn’t be in the specimen room of her own free will, and especially not with Valdemar. He forgot to grab a mask from the wall beside the door as he barged in.

“Dr. Devorak?” Calamity gasped.

Julian nearly ran back out the way he came. It must be a trick of the light, because instead of the usual corpse splayed out on the operating table, a writhing black mass sat, a thousand undulating black ribbons all tied together over a pile of disconnected bleached bones. Some bones came from animals, a few Julian recognized as human. Invisible joints strung them all together like popcorn garlands into something half-resembling a humanoid shape. A horse skull perched at the top turned its ugly head to peer at Julian and Julian could swear _it laughed at him_. He reeled backward and landed on his ass, and as the pain burst over his vision, the thing disappeared without a trace. 

Calamity rushed to him and he was about to get up when she kicked him in the side. “Ow! Crow! What-- what the hell was--”

“Why are you here?” she demanded.

“Does that matter?” he wheezed. “There was a-- didn’t you see the--”

His blood froze over when he heard chuckling from the corner. Valdemar slid out of the shadows, fingers steepled next to their fanged leer. “What a surprise, doctor,” they exclaimed.

“I n-need-- Crow-- need to talk to her!” he stammered. He clambered to his feet. “It’s-- it’s urgent! Please!”

“Hm. I don’t see why not.”

They gave her a pointed stare, but Calamity didn’t move, clenching her fists. “But-- but--”

“We are in no hurry, Miss Crow,” Valdemar told her.

She groaned and stomped out of the specimen room, Julian hot on her heels.

“Crow! Did you see that? Am I going crazy? There was a-- it was there one second-- and then gone! Poof! Some kind of-- gremlin! Is that the term? Gremlin? Bone gremlin?”

Calamity wrestled her mask off. “You came at a bad time,” she grumbled.

“And what were you doing in _there_ with, with _them_ , in the first place? You don’t have clearance to be in there! Or-- do you? Gods, I’ve been out of the loop-- where have you been? What have you--”

His voice caught in his throat when she hooked him by the elbow and tossed him into her office, where he crumbled on her untouched cot. “Would you get to the point?” she demanded.

Julian gulped down a lungful of air before rasping, “what did I just see?”

“Ugh. I don’t want to explain this to you.”

“Crow, so help me--”

“Fine!” Calamity slammed her fist on her desk, making her books jump. “It was Death, okay? I was talking to Death! The Arcana! I’ve been trying to talk to them for months and I finally got it to work with Valdemar’s help and you came in and ruined everything! And if you give me one of your dumbass excuses like ‘death is a construct’ and ‘death isn’t a person’, I’ll take a scalpel and scoop your eyeballs out!”

Silence stretched. Julian was hyperaware of how many times he blinked. “A… a summary would have s-sufficed,” he mumbled.

She plopped down at her desk with a grimace. “Now that’s out of the way, what’s so fucking urgent?”

“W-wait a second, I’m not going to gloss over--”

“Yes you are. If you’re so curious, ask Asra. He’s got more patience than me.”

Julian fiddled with his gloves. “Erm, that’s what I’m here about. I’m worried about him.” He hesitated, unsure if she might try to bite his finger, but pointed to the black book on her desk. “Those symbols… I’ve seen them before. He’s drawn them in his shop. He told me that he was going to try to perform a dangerous ritual tonight, and that he-- he might have to use his own blood.”

Calamity’s dark eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Are you sure?” She grabbed the book and brandished it in front of Julian’s nose. “These symbols? That-- that can’t be!”

“Yes, I’m sure. What do they mean? It’s only some kind of mystic mumbo-jumbo, right? It can’t be too--”

“You have to stop him!” she yelped. The book flew across the office so Calamity could shake Julian’s shoulders with more violence than should be allowed for a girl of her size. 

“Ack! Crow--!”

“He trusts you, right? Martzel said you’re spending every day with him, so if anyone can stop him, it’s you!”

Julian grabbed her forearms to keep her from shaking his skull off his neck. “What does it mean?” he implored. “What is this ritual for? Nobody will tell me, and you clearly know!”

She winced as though he held a gun to her head. “It d-doesn’t matter!”

“If it concerns Asra’s safety, then it matters a great deal! Either that or you explain the monster I saw in the specimen room!”

“I did! I-- urgh, you’re impossible!” Calamity released him so she could pick the book up and tuck it under her arm. “I have to go. This is more important than you realize. Go save Asra before he does something he can’t reverse.”

Julian stood too. His pulse had increased exponentially. “If you really were talking to-- to Death-- alright, fine, let me visualize this... it couldn’t be about killing someone, Crow, I know you, I know you, but-- perhaps-- yes, perhaps bringing someone back to life…?”

Calamity bared her teeth like a feral animal. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Dr. Devorak,” she hissed, and before he could stop her, she sprinted away.

Julian didn’t bother trying to catch up. There was no point. He already knew that she was going back to the specimen room, and if he followed her, she would be even less inclined to help him. Whether or not she really was talking to “Death”, Asra was in danger, and though he wished Calamity wasn’t alone in a small dissection chamber with Valdemar, she couldn’t be his top priority right now. She could handle herself-- she would have to handle herself. He tried not to think about her or the vision of the horse skeleton as he raced back to the elevator.


	20. after dark

Rain pattered across the rooftops of Vesuvia. Night fell faster than usual with help from the clouds. Julian’s soaked hair had to be slicked out of his face as he hurried through the streets. 

What if he was too late? What if, by some cruel twist of fate, he arrived just as the ritual began, and that breathless wind was back? What if Asra was already bleeding to death without him? What if he was just in time to find Asra’s corpse, still warm, blood washing the chalk from the floor around him, eyes wide and terrified with the final realization that something had gone wrong?

He couldn’t remember the last time he exercised. Now, he jogged when he could, slowing only to catch his breath, cursing his own tendencies to sit hunched over a desk all day. 

When the familiar door came into view, he was already clutching a stitch in his side. He used his free hand to rap briskly on the door. “Asra!” he shouted over the rain. He shifted from one foot to the other. “Asra! Open up!”

The steady pounding of rain was his only answer. He raised his fist to knock again, but paused halfway through the motion. That sudden image of Asra’s corpse in a spiral of chalk flashed across his vision. If Asra wasn’t answering the door, that meant…

Julian raced around the side of the building. There were a few shuttered windows, a single locked backdoor… and an unshuttered window he didn’t recognize, just a few feet off the ground. He ran his fingers along the bottom and jimmied it upward. (Julian wasn’t a thief-- he made it his mission to teach himself how to open windows after a teenage Portia locked him out of Mazelinka’s house one too many times). 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but the window gave way enough for him to slip his fingers under and tug it up. His rail-thin frame made him a prime candidate for an experienced cat burglar. Julian hoisted himself head-first through the gap, and when he pushed himself through, he only remembered that he was subject to the laws of gravity after he careened forward, landing with a painful crash with his legs at skewed angles. 

He didn’t have time to rearrange himself or even take in his surroundings before there was a flurry of movement from the other room. The magician appeared in the doorway brandishing a jewel-hilted dagger. His wild eyes softened, then hardened again just as quick. “Ilya?” he demanded.

Julian tried out a rakish smirk. “Is-- is that a knife-- or are you just happy to--”

“Ilya, I told you that the ritual was too dangerous for you!” Asra snapped. Despite his demeanor, he set the knife down on a nearby sofa so he could help Julian to his feet, feeling around Julian’s arms for bruises. They must be in some kind of cramped meeting room with a set of rickety sofas and a tea table in the corner. “Did you come in through the window? I thought I closed-- no, it doesn’t matter. You need to leave.”

“I can’t let you do this alone!”

“You must! Come, I’ll take you to Mazelinka’s house, she’ll take care of you.”

As Asra pulled him forward, he jerked backward, rainwater flying as he shook his head. “Callie-- Crow-- I talked to her-- I told her that you’re--”

Asra’s eyes widened. “You told her? You promised to keep my research a secret!”

“I didn’t really, she-- she guessed? Um-- that’s not the point!” He ran his hands through his hair and pulled himself by the roots back to reality. “Asra, whatever this is-- whatever you’re planning-- it’s got Crow scared, and, and if _she’s_ scared, it’s--”

“She has good intentions, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Asra replied icily. 

“B-but--”

Asra seized Julian by the wrist and tugged again, this time with twice the force. “You need to leave, _now_.”

Julian was not a strong man, not physically or even mentally, but he ground his heels into the ground and fixed Asra with the fiercest glare he could muster. With his other hand, he slammed the window behind him closed. “No. I won’t let you put yourself in harm’s way. I can’t let you do this because I’m your-- because you’re my-- my--”

The words wouldn’t seem to form in his mouth. As Julian fumbled, Asra’s grip relaxed, face relaxed into a small sad smile. “Oh, Ilya…” He quieted Julian with a kiss. “I’ll show you, okay? I’ll show you how the ritual will work so you won’t have to worry, and then we’ll take you back to Mazelinka’s house to wait out the storm.”

Julian started out of the room with him, but hesitated. “Wait-- no blindfold?”

Asra grinned. “No blindfold.”

On the way, Asra picked the knife off the couch. It was sparkling clean but it still made Julian’s stomach twist. “Be careful, don’t step on the lines,” Asra warned.

“W-will it hurt?”

“Oh, no... it’s just that you’re dripping wet. I don’t want the chalk to smudge.”

Julian chuckled, but made sure to avoid stepping on the sprawling spirals across the hardwood all the same. The shop hadn’t changed much since Julian’s last visit. While the shelves were lined with what Julian assumed to be magical ingredients, the rest of the furniture and wares had been pushed to the walls, making space for the chalk circles in the center of the room, big enough for someone to lie down comfortably within their confines. Unlit candles lined the spirals. A single clean bowl sat on one end, an open book on the other.

“The blood goes here,” Asra said, poking the bowl with his toe. “It shouldn’t take very much, but I need to use this knife, so it might be, er… messy, but that’s all. You see? No need to worry.”

Julian was about to ask why that knife in particular when he realized that no doubt Asra would give him some cryptic answer instead of something reasonable, so instead he asked, “is that it? Not to be crude, but you just need someone to act as a blood bag?”

“Erm… it isn’t so simple. Blood is the strongest magical agent tied to the human body, so any potential magic that is born from it becomes unstable very quickly. If I cut you right here,” Asra explained, and Julian’s heart leapt when he took Julian’s hand and rested the blade against his palm, “and used your blood for the ritual, you might absorb some of the spell-- or, worse, the spell might absorb some of you, as long as your wound is open. It wouldn’t matter how shallow or deep I cut you, the risk would be the same.”

“Then you need to wait until the wound is healed to, er, cast the spell?”

“Usually, yes, but this particular ritual requires fresh blood. Using, as you said, a blood bag, might work for most sacrificial spells… but this one is more advanced. More unpredictable. And if things go wrong, the consequences would be still more disastrous.”

None of that sounded good. An involuntary tremor made Julian’s fingers twitch, and Asra withdrew the knife at their movement. When Julian spoke, his voice came out dry. “What-- what do you mean? The spell might absorb you?”

“It may, it may not,” Asra replied as his confidence wavered by the second. “There’s a chance-- and even if it does, well, if it works, it would be worth it--”

“Asra, what does it mean?” Julian repeated.

“I don’t know!” Asra burst out. “Alright? I don’t know! I tried to find out, I did, hours and hours of translating and reading, but I-- I just don’t know! Have you ever cared for someone so, so deeply, you didn’t care about the consequences, as long as there was a chance they could--” Asra cut himself off. He took a calming breath, and when Julian tried to wrap him up in an embrace, he stepped back, focusing on the floor instead of Julian’s anxious face. “I can take the consequences. I’ve taken advantage of your kindness for long enough.”

All of a sudden, Julian’s encounter with the fake Asra swam across his thoughts. This Asra before him spoke of obsession, not love, just like the fake Asra said about Julian; throwing everything away with no rhyme or reason for the vague promise of compensation. Yes, Julian knew exactly what Asra was talking about… but how was he supposed to say it out loud? He reached for Asra’s shoulder but he was shrugged away. “This is madness,” he reproached.

“You’re the one who broke into my house!” Asra retorted.

“Asra, you must understand how foolish--”

“Foolish? _Foolish_?!” Asra held the dagger aloft. Julian backed away instinctively. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through, what I’ve suffered, and _you_ call _me_ foolish? I’m performing the ritual tonight, with or without your precious blessing!”

Julian flinched as the blade advanced. He knew Asra wouldn’t hurt him, he knew he wouldn’t, and yet… “Darling, think about this,” he begged.

“You think I haven’t? You think I haven’t gone over every single terrible outcome in my head?” Asra raised the knife to point at Julian’s throat and his lips twisted back from his gums in an animalistic snarl. “I thought about sacrificing you, did you know that? I thought about slitting your throat and letting you bleed your soul into this ritual circle. You wouldn’t put up any resistance. I wouldn’t even have to tie you up, would I? No, you’d lie right down and look at me with those puppy-dog eyes and you wouldn’t move a muscle as I cut your throat open!”

Julian shuddered to realize that he agreed.

“So yes, Ilya, I have thought about this. I might even say I’ve thought too much. And my thoughts-- oh gods, my thoughts-- terrify me--!” 

Asra’s knees nearly buckled as his voice faded. The knife clattered to the floor. Julian just caught him before he hit the ground. “It’s alright, I’ve got you,” Julian murmured.

“I won’t hurt you,” Asra gasped. His fingernails dug into Julian’s arms. “I w-wouldn’t! I haven’t been myself, no, but I never-- n-never would--!”

“I know, dearest, I know…”

Asra calmed himself with a few more breaths before speaking again. “That’s why… I didn’t want you here,” he finished feebly.

Julian sighed. “Right.”

“Maybe you’re right… saying all this out loud, I’m even scaring myself…”

Julian kissed the crown of Asra’s head. “I like when you take charge, but I agree. A bit too scary, that.”

“Mm. Speaking of which…” Asra’s hand crept up Julian’s arm to rest on the side of his neck. “You looked a little too excited when I pointed the sacrificial dagger your way.”

“Ah-- ahaha-- I didn’t, um, think you’d notice--”

“I notice everything when it comes to you, Ilya. I’ve got a sixth sense reserved for you.”

Relief warmed Julian from the outside in like a hot bath. Things were getting back to normal. He guided Asra a few steps out of the ritual circle, perhaps in the vain hope that Asra might forget about the ritual if he just couldn’t see it, but Asra paused to recollect the knife. A malicious twinkle lit up his eyes, something akin to a realization. “How would you like a little _distraction_?” Asra remarked. “Hm? A little something to ease your mind?”

Julian gulped. He felt like he wasn’t the one who should be distracted. “W-with the knife?”

“Unless you’d rather not. I can be gentler, if you wish…”

“I’d like it, oh, very much, I just-- I thought you-- w-where is this coming from?”

“Shall I put it another way?” Asra slipped free of Julian’s grip and pointed at the floor between Julian’s feet. “If you consent for me to have my way with you, which may or may not include this knife, I want you to kneel for me.”

Again? This was the second time he would be on his knees in this accursed shop to bend to the whims of an enigmatic magician.

Well… the first time wasn’t all that bad, up until the magic chicanery, anyway… and he didn’t really have anything to lose...

It was hardly a decision at all when Julian sank to the ground. “Yes,” he breathed.


End file.
